


A Lead Role in a Cage

by J_Shute_Norway



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: An ever darker AU of a dark AU, Angst, Emails, Fantastic Racism, Gen, Jail, NaMoWriZo, Prison, T.A.M.E. Shock Collars (Zootopia)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-29
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-02-08 12:43:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 122,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12864765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Shute_Norway/pseuds/J_Shute_Norway
Summary: NaMoWriZo Fic. Nick never escaped from the ZPD after his arrest. Instead, he's to be put through the grinder of the courts and jails. But he isn't going down without a fight, and even from inside his cell he will inspire both Pred and Prey who've had enough. But there are mammals who despise him everywhere, and they plan to seize every opportunity they can to destroy him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello readers.
> 
> This story, A lead role in a cage, acts as the counterpoint to my last major Fic, 'Coming to reward them'. Whereas in that Nick and his family fled Zootopia to pastures new, in this one Nick doesn't escape from the ZPD after Wild times.
> 
> Both are AU's of 'Zootopia: the original plot' and require some reading of it to fully understand (up to the end of Chapter 15 for this one, with a full read-through preferable). You don't need to read 'Coming to reward them' to get it at all, though a few little hints placed here and there might show themselves to those who've read it (and its world building). But, again, reading that Fic isn't required.
> 
> I used NaMoWriZo as an opportunity to get this Fic done, wanting to complete my collar 'trilogy' (A potential quartet of prequel Skye-Savage war stories and a sequel to ZTOP non-withstanding). Originally thinking I'd do it all within the time limit, it soon turned out I'd still have much to write. As a result, I wrote to the end of the first half of the Fic (finding a perfect place to do so) and truncated it there. Now though, we're moving past that with chapter 11. Buckle up buckaroo's!
> 
> Just a warning, while coming to reward them was a lighter path that branched off ZTOP, this is the dark and nasty mirror image. Bad things will happen.

_Did you exchange,_

_A walk on part in the war,_

_For a lead role in a cage?_

**.**

**.**

**Chapter 1:**

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

The Wilde Project.

.

Dear Grima.

.

It has been so long since we last talked. Longer still since we last met up. I’m sorry for not being in contact as much as I should have been.

And, before you ask, I forgive you for the same sin. For something as small as that, I could never hate you.

The truth is that both of us, in our unique positions, are aware far more than many others of the injustice in this world and thus, even at the expense of our own love, are willing to do what we can to end it. It goes without saying that I’m a bear that eats wood. You’re technically a sloth, yet you eat termites. In most regions of the world we’re considered prey mammals. We’re allowed to live our lives freely and without the hate, scorn or prejudice that those of my order or your diet generally face. But we both know that that is not due to some scientific approach or reason, but rather due the fact that someone, somewhere, chose to draw a line and we were on the right side of it.

This is the same line that means bat-eared foxes and aardwolves get collared, while the more predatory armadillos get a free pass. It is a line of pain and suffering rooted not in reason or necessity but pure irrationality and the worst of our emotions. This is the line that we both vowed to try to erase.

Thus, I hope you understand that, with recent events, I cannot leave Zootopia. Not until I fully record the life and deeds of the most important mammal in the world. You (and your fantastic tongue (which I miss very much)) must wait in Canidaea while I make sure that the story of the Pred who dared isn’t lost to the mists of history and the lies of those who oppose him.

I’ve heard they’ve locked him down in their deepest cell now, with only guards who have terminal illnesses being allowed to go close to him. Maybe that’s true, maybe it isn’t. Still though, a direct interview has been impossible. However, I’ve been able to trace multiple sources and get a good picture of what went on from his arrest until now. I plan to send these over in the following emails, over the next few days and such. If you can proof them and compile them, before maybe sharing them with some of your activists, then we’d be one more step closer to our goal. Maybe, had this all gone down up where you are, the world would have trod a different path. Maybe, they’d have finally decided to middle finger the United Mammalian Congress and fully ban the collars.

Maybe it still can go that way.

There is a great tension in the air, Grima. A great tension but I’m excited for it. For once, I’m glad that our forbidden love forced me out of my home and to the city where ‘anyone can be anything’. I always scorned at those words, but now there is the slightest glint of truth in them. I’ll keep on working, sending you useful information, before going back up to meet you when the time is right.

I’m sorry that, after all we went through, this long-distance relationship is staying as such.

I miss you every day.

Melony.

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

RE: The Wilde Project.

.

Dear Melony.

.

Keep on working over there. Keep on doing good. I miss you, and I still love you.

I will always love you.

The papers are receiving bumper sales now, thanks to our mutual idol. We actually went into print AND MADE A PROFIT!

Still, the website always needs care and attention and such, so it’s not as if we’re living the high life. Instant coffee for us, not the luxury of a Snarlbucks. I’ll make this email brief, as there’s still more articles to write. Our little revolution aside, more articles means more advertisement revenue to help pay the (ever increasing) bills.

Consequently, I’m certain that these exclusive pieces of info will all but aid in our selfless and selfish endeavours. It would be an honour to read, review and, nay I say it, publish the records of what Wilde went through. We’ve already been flooded with viewers thanks to our documentation of what ‘Wild times’ was like, as well as a good life story on what Nick Wilde went through before all of that. Heck, the flood in views allowed us to finally book a good roof repair for the house/office, while giving all eight of us a little money to spend on the important things.

Speaking of important things, does a webcam sound good? You may not be able to experience my ‘wonderful tongue’ in person, but I’m certain that you’d settle for the next best thing?

Reply back soon Melony,

You’re always in my dreams.

Love, Grima.

.

.

.

 

RE: RE: The Wilde Project.

.

GET IT!

.

I may be going to a nearby shop owned by that tiger I told you about (Pandora) to get a few emergency supplies. In the meantime, I thought I’d link you a taste of some of the things I’d found. Don’t ask me how I got it, just be happy that I have my ways.

Love you, ‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’

.

.

.

_Attached document: Interview.doc._

.

CLASSIFIED INFORMATION:

.

POLICE INTERROGATION REPORT: APRIL 27th 2016. 

.

INTERVIEWING OFFICER: Jr Detective Judy L Hopps.

PRISONER: NICHOLAS P WILDE

TYPE: PREDATOR

SPECIES: FOX (RED)

CHARGES AS OF PRESENT: Gross misuse of medical license. Gross violation of harmony act, primarily sub-clauses related acceptable removal of TAME collar devices for medical reasons. Gross professional misconduct. Gross public endangerment.

.

.

Interview begins at 10:07 AM.

.

(NW): Hellooooo.

( _I presume this to be chief of police, Adrian Bogo_ ): You take him Hopps, I haven’t got time for this mangy fox!

(NW): I have a name, you know.

(AB): I know, I just don’t care.

(JH): Thank you Chief, I’ll take it from here.

(NW): Chief is it? You should have your own brand of motivational greeting cards!

( _Unknown sound. I presume to be someone coughing?_ )

( _Sound of door closing)_

(NW): So now that officer Buffalo Butt has skedaddled, have you run the plates? _(note, later research showed that these two met on the night of NW’s arrest, as well as several times before. NW’s attacker would have arrived at the site in a vehicle. Its plates are the one’s he’s asking about)._

(JH): We’re not here to discuss that.

(NW): You’re a detective, aren’t you? You want the truth. You want to do good. You want fame? This Lupus Savage guy _(the fake name the ‘wolf’ gave NW on the night of the attack)_ is the one making mammals go savage! Ask Jorge down in confinement. Ask the Tiger gamily who saw him getting shot!

(JH): Listen! _(shouted, and accompanied by sound of a clipboard slamming on the table)_ While the first two were right, you almost got however many mammals killed or injured. You blew off my warnings like they were mindless guff! And now, seeing as your hair brained plan has inevitably gone down the toilet, you come up with a wild story about an evil wolf who darts predators! I mean, even if true, why on earth would he do that? This is a serious investigation, we’re not here to discuss the nutty stuff…

(NW): Good, the squirrels are far better at that… How hard can it be to follow this one lead?

(JH): Really Slick? You made that joke yesterday. _(JH discovered Wild times the day of the incident. I presume this is referring to a joke made then)._

(NW): That long ago? Only seems like ten-fifteen minutes. You also forgot that only my best friends can call me by that name, so either you’re a very dumb bunny or you’re a friend who will help me. I think I know which one you wanna be. So, with this lead, just do some research and stuff and then report back to me. Is it really that hard?

(JH): Very easy in fact. Look up wolves called Lupus Savage in the census, find that there are none, done!

(NW): Maybe it was a fake name? I mean, just run the plates of those who left without the police getting them and find the wolf with the funny accent!

(JH): Listen, that’s not my department. While I am personally interested in pursuing your case, I’m actually here to give you an offer. I hear you’re in with Lenora? _(note, I’ve included a brief bio of this colourful character in as an appendix)_

(NW): Yup, lucky me. What’s with her anyway?

(JH): The officers at the real prison hate her and keep sending her back, so we have to deal with her. _(note, not strictly true. A common technique in some regions it to move problem prisoners into jails in order to intimidate those being held into accepting plea bargains. (I believe the ‘Sally the screaming squirrel’ was the most famous case))._ That’s just the way the carrot grows.

(NW): Carrots… It’s surprising how predictable and cute…

(JH): Don’t call me cute! _(ditto: never call a bunny cute. Especially her.)_ You are in line for a life sentence with no parole, so I advise you listen to all the help I can give you! You have three accomplices who are missing, give me their location and I can bring it down to forty max.

…

(JH): Come on Fox… I know your kind better than your naïve friends do…! _(note, I heard the start of a growl here)._ It’s their fault for being involved with you and they have no reason to expect you to stay silent. I mean, foxes can’t be trusted, have no loyalty…

_(At this stage JH was cut off by NW’s collar triggering. Lasted a few seconds, certainly sounded painful)._

(NW): Us foxes don’t do that fluff, and even if we did, I never would!

(JH): Too bad Wilde. By the way, I gave Lenora a nice new leash which straps well around your collar. Think about that for a second.

.

.

(JH): I said think about it, Wilde. Not spend your time fiddling with the grate on the floor.

(NW): Maybe I need to do a repetitive task while I think about things? I mean, have I ever given you bunnies stick for using half of your energy to continuously twitch your nose?

(JH): Nose twitching is an anxiety and curiosity response.

(NW): Or… maybe it’s some kind of savage uncontrollable instinct?

(JH): Stop that!

(NW): Interesting. Seems like the name callers don’t like it when I throw the same names back at them. I never would have guessed.

(JH): Ha-Ha… Anyway, it’s a shame really. Someone noticed that it was loose yesterday and resealed it in place. If it weren’t for him, you could have slipped through it and tried to escape. Not that I’d let you get very far that is.

(NW): Oh, I don’t know. I’d have distracted you with a cheesy joke beforehand. Given myself some time. And I have night vision, something you don’t. By the looks of it… down there is dark, wet and… pipe-y?  I wouldn’t be surprised if it led me back to me old apartment.

(JH): Yes. I’ve seen a picture of that place. You know, I don’t know how you could ever consider that a suitable environment to bring a kit up in! _(note: I have no idea what she’s talking about here. She seems to think Nick Wilde had a young son, even though records thoroughly disprove it)_ I’d be surprised if he didn’t have all sorts of coughs and stuff! If you treat him that badly there, it’s no wonder that you didn’t care about doing something so stupid and leaving him an orphan.

(NW): …Oh yes. My boy. My sweet, completely real and non-fictional boy _(as you’ll see later, he’s playing along for laughs)_. He’ll be safe and happy with Auntie Honeybun and co, and kept well out of your nasty paws.

(JH): Are you trying to infer something…?

(NW): No… Just that I’d hate to think of the abuse that he’d receive at the hands of a pred-hating bun-bun.

(JH): Unless you want me to slap a muzzle onto you, you’ll refrain from calling me that…

(NW): Ow! Police brutality. Heart-breaking rejection! Loss of innocence and formation of cynical worldview! Claustrophobia! Trauma… trauma… and then emotional squalor and ruination…

(JH): Did, uh… Have you ever been to the burrows? Carrot days festival?

(NW): No. Why?

(JH): And if your little act is over…

(NW): Can I get on to the fact that you have a carrot festival. I mean, I’ve at least tried to fight the stereotypes you guys trail and nail on me.

(JW) No you don’t, unlike me. For a start, I want you to know that I’d have no qualms about taking your son in and raising him as my own. Doing a better job than you would, no-doubt.

(NW): Firstly, I don’t believe you.

(JH): Why not?

(NW): Your nose is twitching…

(JH): Okay… Quick question. Is he toilet trained?

(NW): Sure. Day and night, maybe except during the odd thunderstorm. I’m a great parent. Also, did you see any diapers down in my flat?

(JH): Thanks for answering that. I’m happy to say I would have no qualms about raising him as my own, and…

(NW): Fine. I believe you now. Your nose is not twitching.

(JH): See. I’m not this predator hating caricature that you believe I am…

(NW): Instead you’re the kind of bunny who gets scared, not by the thought of having to raise someone who your culture says will eat you at the first opportunity, but by the thought of having to change messy diapers.

(JH): I don’t see the relevance of this. Moving on…

(NW): Is there a story behind this or… _(Note, I’m certain there is, but I was too terrified to try and uncover it. Hell hath no fury like a traumatised bun-bun)._

(JH): Moving swiftly on…

(NW): Judy…

(JH): I said moving swiftly on…

(NW): Officer Carrots…

(JH): I SAID MOVING SWIFTLY ON!

.

(NW): Fine... Secondly, you do know what this means you’d have to do, doesn’t it?

(JH): What?

(NW): You’d have to get close to him. Learn to love him. See him as a little boy, no different to the bunnies of the same age. You’d have to try and stop all those who are mean to him, because they’ve been taught from the day they were born to think that he was mean, though not being a fox means they may actually bother to listen to you. And, age five, you’d have to end his short childhood like that ( _note: clicks his finger)._

(JH): End his childhood?

(NW): You’d have to collar him. You’d have to look him in the eye, and lock a device around him that’s designed to punish him whenever he gets too emotional.

(JH): You mean too angry and aggressive.

(NW): I… Know… What… I… Mean…

(JH): No, it seems like you’re one of these collar complainers who makes up stories about how these things hurt you for feeling all emotions, as if we’re monsters who’d do that! All because you don’t care about protecting others from yourselves, and instead focus on the horror of not being able to snarl and growl whenever someone accidentally does a boo-boo against you.

(NW): Given that I just got punished for being disgusted at your slight on my species’ honour…

(JH): You mean, given that my words hit too close to home and you were about to get physical…

…

(NW): You want to talk about getting physical? I’m guessing you enjoyed plenty of sports back in your childhood. Did you?

(JH): I played a lot of netball and rounders.

(NW): And given that you were competing then, and exercising, I’m certain that that would class as ‘getting physical’.

(JH): Well, yes… But a different kind…

(NW): Ever wonder why Zootopia’s best sprinters are never cheetahs, despite those being natures best sprinters?

(JH): Well, pronghorns and Thomson gazelle evolved to be just as fast to run away from them, didn’t they? And there’s a lot more of them than there are cheetahs. It’s just coincidence and chance…

(NW): You really believe that?

…

(JH): Well, of course I do. That’s the truth, isn’t it?

(NW): You know… If he does get captured, I do want you to look after him. It’s gotta be better than Kit services, given some of the stories I’ve heard. Even better, I want you to look into his eyes and explain all these things to him. I want you to look into his eyes after he’s been bullied in order to send his collar off and explain that it’s ‘all for his own good’. I want you to look into his eyes as he’s suddenly unable to do all the things he used to love. I want you to look into his eyes as he learns that he’s a second-class citizen, and that it’s because of mammals like you and your stinking prejudices that he has to suffer. All in the name of ‘just to be safe’. The four words that have been used to cause more pain and misery in this world than any other.

…

(JH): Is there some ulterior motive to this?

(NW): …Maybe I just want to meet a prey mammal who realises that what they do to us preds is not okay. That realise that we’re not the monsters, but they are. Maybe, I want to meet a prey mammal who treats me like a mammal, and not a pred. Maybe, I want you to understand what I’ve gone through, so that you’ll feel sorry for me and help me.

(JH): I don’t feel sorry for you. You broke the law.

(NW): I was framed.

(JH): They all say that.

(NW): Some of them are right. I’m also giving you a lot more to go on than most mammals, aren’t I?

(JH): You’re mostly trying to guilt me with this ‘oh, the collars are horrible’ stuff that I’ve heard a hundred and one times and know to be false.

(NW): Oh! So, you wore a collar then?

(JH): …no. Why would I…

(NW): Because the only way you would truly have the right to say what you just said is to have worn one.

(JH): But I don’t need one. I have no reason to wear one.

(NW): Then don’t go around saying things like ‘all your complaints are false, I know.’

(JH): You understand that this is like the ‘environmentalists flying a lot’ argument?

(NW): You know that that’s a false equivalency… or a straw mammal… Or a dead fish tactic…

…

(NW): I didn’t go to logical fallacy school, okay? I don’t know the exact name for each and every bad argument, but I know one when I see one. So, you can stop looking at me like that. Can’t you?

(JH): I could. But I don’t really want to. It feels good to be able to look smug at you, I guess the teaser doesn’t like being teased back, does he?

(NW): Compared to the level of teasing I got past during my school days, this stuff just goes over my head… I’d gesture with my paws, swooshing over and just clipping my ears but… You know. Handcuffs. Chain. You want to know what does tick me off though?

(JH): What?

(NW): That you are such a bare faced coward.

(JH): Really? Compared to you, who can’t fess up to his crimes? I’ve put myself in harm’s way many times, all to save people. I’ve battled criminal rhino’s and bears. So, you have no right to call me a coward.

(NW): As long as you avoid wearing a collar, you are a coward. As long as you dismiss our concerns, without even considering trying to evaluate them, you are a coward. Every time you tell a pred that this is for their own good, without ever exposing yourself to the bad, you are a coward. You say that this is something which causes us no harm, pain, or misery; so, it stands to perfect reason that you could wear a collar for a week, month, year or lifetime and be just fine. But you don’t. It may take bravery to go up against something dangerous. But I think it takes a real coward to not being able to stand up to something that should cause you no pain or harm at all.

…

(JH): Now that you’ve got that over with, and decided that it isn’t worth getting angry about ( _I presume his collar went down to green here. I can’t tell when it went up to orange),_ we can move on.

(NW): So, moving away from my hard-hitting monologue then? It’s a shame I didn’t have it recorded, so I can replay it. Because I think it’s relevant for this too.

(JH): I’m not going to respond to that.

(NW): Ditto my previous point.

(JH): Or that.

(NW): Hat trick.

(JH): I could say the same thing about you, and how you keep on distracting me from the purpose of this entire interrogation. I’m supposed to learn about your story and side of events and the whereabouts of your fellow conspirators, though you’ve already refused that last bit.

(NW): I have. But for formalities sake, I’ll do the first bit for you. I got into Wild Times a bit later than usual that night, we needed to pick up some replacement generators. There was a long queue, so I was busy dealing with the backlog after arriving while the others were sorting out the power issue. The first I saw of this wolf, Lupus Savage, was when he came to get uncollared. He seemed nervous, but also able to joke. Also, his fur and smell… they weren’t totally foreign to what I’d expect from a wolf, but they were distinct. He spoke in this unusual, aloof, highland Scottish accent. I let him in, then returned to my office to do some financial stuff.

(JH): I thought you mentioned some tiger witnesses?

(NW): I did. They arrived to ask about their son hosting a birthday party there. Their son wanted to invite a Hippo, and I may have been a bit too hard on him. About this time Jorge…

(JH): Jorge? You mean Jorge?

(NW): No. It’s pronounced ‘Hoar-Hay’. Seriously carrots, I bet your one of those who pronounces Tujunga with a J. Anyway, he busted in saying that this wolf guy was acting very strange. To prove his point, said wolf was outside my office, on the supports of the Roar-A-Coaster. He stepped in, spat a load of crazy anti-pred stuff…

(JH): But he’s a wolf…

(NW): You understand that I’m as confused by this as you are?

(JH): Carry on.

(NW): He then brought out a gun, darted Jorge, who fell out the office and… turned… and then gave me a face full of fox repellent. Could you inform your guys to look for traces of that in my office? Or are you to busy just focussing on convicting me.

(JH): As I’m the better mammal, I’ll tell them. I’ll also take an eye swab and fur samples, and test that. Because I’m nice.

(NW): Really? _(Note, this isn’t sarcastic. He sounds… touched?)_ Thankyou.

(JH): It’s what we do in the ZPD. Now, I do have a spare kit, so hold tight. _(It sounds like Hopps is taking said samples at this moment)._

(NW): I will…

(JH): Anything else you can tell me about this wolf? Any motives? Were you loaning from other preds, behind on your payments, and he was an enforcer? Were there any… illegal distributions on site.

(NW): I have no clues about why he was doing this. I was forced to loan from other, less than savoury preds, but that’s because I went to every bank in the city and was turned down for a loan. Officially, I had no credit, something no one was willing to help me acquire. Unofficially, I’m a predator.

(JH): Does it have anything to do with the fact that you were a factory worker who, with no prior experience or qualifications, wanted to open a theme park?

(NW): I’m pretty certain that one of the biggest insectariums nearby was started by a store owner who happened to start collecting creatures that had been left at customs?

(JH): Oh yeah. I remember going there as a kit. And watching the ZBC miniseries.

(NW): So, miracles do happen. If you’re prey. As my father found out though, someone finding out that you’re a pred can immediately change a loan approved to a loan denied.

(JH): Trying to build sympathy won’t work we me.

(NW): Worth a shot though. As for illegal distributions, we sold some killer cricket fritters but that was about it. In terms of the loan, I was a week away from paying it off.

(JH): So, no motive then. Are you still certain you want to carry on with this ‘not guilty plea?’

(NW): Yes, I am. Because I know what I saw, and I don’t care if you don’t believe me. I will not give you the satisfaction of proving your sweet little lies correct.

(JH): Are you certain? Remember who you’re sharing your cell with?

(NW): You know what, I’m pretty certain that’s a scare tactic. You talk a lot and carry a bit stick but you won’t use it. After all, you used to go around with a fake collar remote, didn’t you?

(JH): How did you!?

(NW): I have my ways.

(JH): If you are insistent on this, then go ahead. Though, you might want to tell me your son’s name while you still can. I may well adopt him, just to prove your speciesist attitudes wrong, but I’d need to know who I’m looking for.

(NW): Oh, sure… Now, his name is a bit complex. He has two middle names, which he’s just got into the habit of calling himself by, so you’ll have to always ask for his full, complete name.

(JH): Which is?

(NW): Mike, not Michael, just Mike. Seth. Dravis…

(JH): Dravis?

(NW): ‘Drive… is’. It’s an old family name his mother, bless her soul, insisted on.

(JH): And Wilde?

(NW): Correct.

(JH): So, Mike Seth ‘Drive-is’ Wilde.

(NW): Yes. A sweet little boy who just wants to be hugged and kissed and loved.

(JH): Well, despite what you’re done, you can at least be certain that Mike Seth ‘Drive-is’ Wilde will be safe. See, you’re grinning already.

(NW): Am I grinning fluff? Yes, yes I am.

(JH): Though I’m certain that out there your grin will quickly disappear.

(NW): … Well, yes. I mean one of your inmates does plan to give me the two-brick treatment.

(JH): Stop being melodramatic. Lenora may be bad, but it’s not as if she’s going to injure you. You’ll spend the rest of your life in jail, but rest assured you will meet no injury from any other inmate here.

(NW): Are you sure?

(JH): Certain. Just like how we’ll keep Mike Seth ‘Drive-is’ Wilde safe.

.

(NW): Can you say his name a few more times… It just…

.

(JH): Urghhh… Given my fellow guard is taking some time to get ready… yes, that’s looking at you.

(unknown): Sorry.

(JH): I’ll say it again. Mike Seth Drive-is Wilde… Mike Seth Drive-is Wilde… Mike Seth Drive-is Wilde….

.

.

INTEROGATION ENDS. 10:29 AM.

.

.

Appendix: Lenny ‘Lenora’ Rinklehyde.

Long answer: Essentially the greatest argument against transgender bathroom rights that has ever graced the earth.

Short answer: Bat-S@*# crazy!

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

RE: The Wilde Project.

.

Dear Melony.

Thanks a great deal for both my favourite emoticon, a great laugh and this interesting first batch of information. May I ask, how long was it before he received his injuries?

Also, is J Hopps still looking for you know who?

.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

RE: The Wilde Project.

.

Reports suggest it was five minutes. Into yard, guard turns his head, fox under hippo, first attempt at ‘fixing’ complete.

Also, she thinks he’s still with the others, right now as we speak. She even gets annoyed at people disrespecting him by laughing whenever she brings it up.

I kept a straight face.

Just…

.

Love, ‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’,

.

Melony.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2:**

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The blackness remained, but feeling was returning. It throbbed and ached, the sharp bruising doing its best to drag him back into the real world. Ears twitched, and Nick slowly made out the sound of others nearby. Talking and chatter and the sounds of passing mammals, all incomprehensible.

He pushed through, trying to reclaim control over his body. Toes came back, as he felt them wiggle down below, softly moving over the light sheet that was draped over him. He tried his fingers too, clenching and unclenching his paws and feeling pad against pad. A soft pull, and the cut of a sharp metal ring around his wrist caught his attention. He pulled again, and twisted and explored. His fingers draped the chain that kept him tethered to the bed around themselves, the cold metal links distinct against his pads.

“He’s beginning to wake up, though…”

The sound of an unfamiliar voice came in before vanishing into the ether, replaced with a sudden stab of agony from his most sensitive area. Releasing a pleading whine, his teeth gritting, he was met with a rough set of hooves reaching down around him. A tightness smothered around his neck, shuffling against his fur and burrowing down beneath him. His ears shot up as he heard the familiar sound of a latch locking and capacitors charging up.

He felt heavier now. He felt the wretched thing drag and down, doing its best to make every part of his existence worse. Breathing seemed harder now, as did the simple act of settling in to a comfortable position. Feeling his spine resting on the hard mattress beneath him, the balancing act he’d been performing failed. Keeling over onto one side, the comfort he’d expect was replaced with a sudden stab of blistering agony.

He screamed, before his ears pulled back at the sound of a beep.

The shock hit him before he had a chance to remember what was coming. Before he had a chance to ready himself or prepare.

This time he roared his scream out. The pain was worse, searing through his neck and into every corner of his body. For a second or two, the agony from down below was washed out.

Nick tried to pull himself into a more comfortable spiral position out of instinct rather than rational thought. The agony of moving no longer registered, but the lingering pain lasted far longer than that from his collar. Gritting his teeth and remembering the long-life lessons, he controlled himself.

Breathing under control, and then heartrate, he bared his teeth as he held still.

The roar of fire slowly dulled into an ember, and a simmering bitterness flowed into Nick as he registered an infuriating truth.

He hadn’t been able to curl up into a spiral.

Far from it.

The chain on his wrist was far too short. Pivoting around this point, his ears batted against the cold bed rail as did his foot pads. Taught up into an arc, laying precariously on his side rather than settled down on his front, he realised that a comfortable position was a luxury that they weren’t going to give him.

The sound of hoof steps and paw steps coming and going. More coming than going. The bat of his tail thumping against the bed. His haggard breath as each and every movement sent a twitch or ache in the field of agony between his legs.

He remembered moving into a crowd of predators.  A lion, a weasel, the unfortunate silver fox from earlier… The earth had shaken, and he hadn’t run fast enough. A skull crushing push to his muzzle, before one side of his face was being crushed against the hard surface of the ground. The other was against the orange cloth of a hippo prisoner’s trousers. He guessed his collar had gone off a few times before he got himself under control, just accepting his fate as being the prisoner whose face was being sat on at that time.

And then he’d felt his legs being pulled out wide, before he was blinded with pain.

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* * *

 

.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

The Wilde Project. Injuries sustained in the ‘two bricks’ incident.

.

Dear Grima.

.

Thank you very much for yesterday. Modern technology certainly makes these long-distance relationships far less lonely.

Also, far more exciting.

Still, I miss your touch and your laugh… and that tongue of yours (and all that each of its 2000 mm’s can do).

Anyway, a few checks and I’ve got a pretty clear of the extent of the damages that Wilde sustained.

Suffice to say, it would have totally put you out of the mood yesterday.

The impact immediately turned his left teste into a broken mush of former reproductive organ. From what I gather, there was no chance of repair and thus, while he was under, the inside was surgically removed, and the sac sewn back together. In terms of his right testes, severe bruising was caused to much of the organ. As if to compound matters, it twisted in such a way to cause a bad case of torsion. This would have caused him a hell of a lot of pain during his recovery and after, indeed being the main source of his discomfort (given its less fortunate double went over the event horizon). As I am not so equipped, and thus unable to judge the levels of pain versus the levels of humiliation, would you say that it would have been more humane to just finish the job and spare yourself the resultant agony?

Of course, there’s the other thing that was in the firing line. His baculum was split in three places, while his urethra was severed by one of said breaks. Basic surgery re-joined it, while putting in place a fully inserted catheter that kept the area clean and dry for the duration of the healing.

Healing such a delicate and badly damaged bone, however, is more complicated. Either you have a cast in place down there (apparently nicknamed the blue-pill treatment), you get an artificial one put in, or you say screw it and just go unsupported for the rest of your life.

It must have been a very uncomfortable conversation when he woke up.

Regards,

Mel.

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* * *

 

.

.

“Eeeeeeeehhhhhhhh…… Oooooooooooohhhhhh…… Aaaaaaaahhhhhhh…….”

“Mister Wilde?”

Nick opened his eyes, glancing at his reflection in the chrome of the bed railings. Still chained and on his side, he hadn’t noticed her come in despite being bored stiff for however long he’d been here. Either that, or the latest sensation he was feeling had completely taken over his attention. Tilting his head, whimpering like a kit as he did so, he noticed Judy studying him. Bouncing gently up and down on her foot paws, she rested one of her hand ones beneath her lip. One of her ears was fully up, though the other was bent halfway up. She looked away, a flash of guilt in her eyes, before speaking.

“I can only offer my full and complete apologies for…”

“I started going to the toilet without giving the order fluff!” Nick barked out, cutting her off.

“That’s….”

“And it’s going someplace I don’t know!”

“Nick…”

“I’m still emptying, and this is freaky!” Nick continued, panicking as he spoke. “You stupid fuzz let that rhino break me! I’m broken! Something’s wrong! If I wasn’t trying to avoid a red light, I’d be screaming out in terror… What have you done to me Judy? What have you done?”

“We inserted a catheter,” Judy rushed out. Nick blinked, letting his alert ears fall back slightly and his panic flow out. Instead, he trained his eyes on the bunny and gave her a venomous look.

“And why exactly do I have one?” he asked. “And how screwed up are my Todd tools?”

Judy stepped back slightly, glancing around and letting her buck teeth slide over her bottom lip. She bit it harder as Nick’s glare intensified.

“Carrots….”

“Battered-broken-amputated!”

…

Nick closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting his collar beep up to a yellow warning as he did so. The aches and pains from his never regions were still there, pulsing out as he took in what was just said.

“More detail?” he asked, before popping in a sarcastic addendum. “Please…”

Judy gulped, her gaze ajar to Nick and her ear tips turning a deep red as she spoke. “One of your…. buck’s berries… was completely destroyed. The other one was heavily bruised and is very tender…”

“News to me fluff. I just like lying this way and whimpering in agony to pass the time…”

“And your baculum is fractured in three places, one of which caused a severing of your urinary tract and thus the need to install the catheter.”

Nick nodded slowly as he took in the information, before looking down below. Just as she’d said, he noticed a long, thin, plastic tube trailing down from him and emptying into a bag that was part filled with a tell-tale yellow liquid. He scoffed, remembering his recent disturbing experience, and looked up. “Did they have to put it in that far?”

…

“I’m… not a real expert on medicine,” she said, before her eyes jumped open slightly as a realisation shot through her mind. Turning to Nick, she walked up to him so that she was looking down on his head from above. Shaking her head slightly, she crossed her arms before leaning down to scold him. “Anyway, you’re the one with the medical degree!”

Nick sighed, looking up to meet her. “Touché,” he replied with a tiny shrug. “Though we never covered the required steps for recovery from surgery. Not my department.”

“Really?” Judy asked suspiciously, as Nick weakly nodded back.

“Yes, we mainly…” the fox began, only to pause in thought. “Hang on!” he exclaimed, his ears shooting up and his collar, which had previously gone back down to green, jumping back up to orange. “Why am I discussing this? I’ve just learnt my dick is broken! MY DICK IS BROKEN!”

Judy opened her mouth to speak, but backed off slightly as she heard a growl rumble up from the broken vulpine lying beneath her.

“You’re lucky that I’m still trying to keep myself calm, because I have every right to be mad now! Do you know why Fluff?”

“Why?”

“Oh, you’ll never guess,” Nick sarcastically called out. “BECAUSE YOU LET AN INSANE RHINO TWO BRICK ME! I’M A HALF GELDING! MY REMAINING HALF IS MAKING ME WISH THE JOB GOT FINNISHED! **AND… MY… DICK… IS… BROKEN…!** ”

“…In-three-places!” Judy spurted out, her finger raised as she made the point.

.

Nick buried his muzzle back below his arm and closed his eyes, taking a deep huff before he spoke. “Whooop-deee-ruttin’-dooo!”

“Hey,” Judy shrugged, her voice straining as she tried to find a tiny strand of positivity. “Hat…trick?”

.

“I so hate you now.”

.

Judy looked away, coughing twice to clear her throat, before squeaking out a sentence. “Things might be about to get worse.”

.

“Do I want to know why?”

.

“Uh… Do you want the bone to be healed with a cast, replaced with an implant, or just… left empty?”

.

Nick’s ear flicking as his collar returned to yellow, after only just turning green, he breathed in through bared teeth as he thought through the proposal. “Having seen the type of cast that has to be worn for option A…. Is option B still titanium?”

“Yes,” Judy said.

“Given that you only need to open the top and push and pull, and that I won’t look like the victim of an age old highschool prank, B it is.”

“You sure,” Judy asked.

“Fluff,” Nick replied wearily, “as long as when I wake up I’m being kept in a cage or something rather than handcuffed to this bed, I’m ready when you are.”

“A cage?”

“Look at me, Fluff,” Nick said. Opening his tired eyes and laying them piercingly on the bunny officer, he locked eye contact with her as he carried on. “In the absence of a basket... and stop giggling right there, they are the best things to sleep in regardless of age! In the absence of a basket, I need to be able to curl up on my front, tail over my snout, to have a chance at getting some sleep. This is the closest I can get, and I’m calling police cruelty if I don’t get a longer chain or no chain.”

Judy nodded slowly, before speaking. “I’ll see what can be arranged. Any other requests?”

Nick looked down at his bed and shrugged, deciding to try his luck. “Some actual pain killers, so every movement below my hips isn’t a saunter through Dante’s inferno perhaps? Given that I’m safely tethered, maybe my emotional freedom too?”

“So you can bite the nurses trying to give you any nasty injections?” Judy sceptically asked, Nick snorting back in response.

“Maybe some news on what happened to that mad Rhino. Or my friends… Or the case?”

“Going back to prison, whereabouts unknown, and some potentially interesting developments.”

Nick eyes opened up wide, and he looked up at Judy curiously. She caught his gaze, and smiled back. “I’ll return when you’ve had your next operation. Maybe it’ll be an occasion to be less antagonistic?”

“Hopefully,” Nick replied, looking back down into his sheets. “Hopefully....”

.

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* * *

 

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

RE: The Wilde Project. Injuries sustained in the ‘two bricks’ incident.

.

Dear Melony…

.

Why did I have to read that…?

I don’t even have a baculum. But if the cast treatment is called getting the blue pill, you’ve certainly given me the red pill. I think I won’t be in the mood for our video chats for a while now.

And speaking from experience, any percussive impacts to that area make you temporarily wish there was nothing there.

 (Temporarily relegate to platonic) love,

Grima.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3:**

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

Carrying on with the biography, it seems that Nicholas Wilde had a perfectly standard operation that was undertaken (much to his apparent ire) under local anaesthetic. After that he was transferred to a long recovery ward. He was still restrained, but reportedly more loosely while being permitted more visitor rights (albeit with the ever-present set of guards, often including Judy Hopps). Details are hazy, but apart from his legal representation, he wasn’t visited by any remaining family members until much later.

During this time, other things were going on around him. His brothers (and sister) in arms: Benjamin Clawhauser, Finnick Ibn-Zerdain and Honey Badger (not a typo), were holed up at the latter’s house.

From the reports I’ve been given, interviews I’ve received and my first-hand impression, she was a particularly vulnerable mammal. Highly emotional, paranoid and probably someone with a reasonable to high level of autism. In many cases, predators like this are only acknowledge when they finally jump in front of a train… It was fortunate that she had a support network to keep an eye on her, though fortunately not a complete enough watch to curtail some of her more unusual activities.

Records state that the police did check her registered address, however this was a different one to the one she generally lived in. Officially, her main residence was an abandoned weasel sized apartment that she bought for a buck in Happy town. Bureaucracy being what it is, the police had no idea where she was based. To be honest though, her ownership of her real house was hidden via several shell companies in offshore tax havens (she was good at taxes). If the ZRCS can’t get through that kind of stuff, no-one can.

Still, hiding in an ordinary house would be crazy. Thus, while researching this ‘sheep conspiracy’ theory she had, Honey Badger had excavated a large underground bunker beneath the roots of her home, which was used by the trio to hide. Sadly, after they made their proper escape, the police took control and sealed it off relatively quickly. Consequently, I can only make do with pictures and first-hand reports. It was basic, cramped, poorly ventilated but fit to hold fort for decades. While none of the three seem like they would exchange their current residence for there, all seem to hold it in a place of nostalgia.

Their activities primarily involved keeping updated on the news and the development of the situation outside. With no resources to actively aid Nicholas Wilde, they were forced to just sit back and wait. They did have outside contacts and assistance though, details of which **WE CANNOT DISCLOSE**. When the time was right (during the chaos of the Animalia incident) their mutual friends were able to hide them into a vehicle and whisk them close enough to the Reptoslav embassy (who’d offered political asylum) to make a run for it. For this, I think we are all eternally grateful. Grateful enough to say that the trio were able to steal a car and drive it there instead.

As for Officer Judy Hopps, it seems that her professional curiosity was too much to control. She looked into several loose ends, which ultimately led to this going from an open and shut case to something powerful enough to change the world. I wonder what she was thinking as she did it? I wonder what those around her were thinking?

I guess we’ll never know.

Regards,

Mel.

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* * *

 

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“Let me get this straight,” Bogo sighed. “We have an open and shut case. This fox was going around, unlocking TAME collars, and he acts all surprised when one of his employees goes savage?”

“Yes sir,” Judy quickly replied. She sat on the edge of her seat, her legs hanging off and into the void. It had been built for mammals as large as elephants, as had much of the room, which made it all the more daunting for a bunny like her. However often she came in here, sitting down and facing the overbearing glare of chief Bogo, she would always feel smaller than she really was.

“And you want to go poking around, looking for some non-existent clues he probably made up on the fly,” the chief continued. His eyes, framed by his two horns, stared down at her, their gaze piercing her like ice.

“Yes,” Judy quipped. “There were some irregularities and…”

“And you understand this is a fox we are talking about?” Bogo interrupted, lunging forward and almost roaring. “A known conmammal. A fraudster and a thief. One who we believe got loans from the polar bear mafia!”

Judy closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in to stay her nerves. “I am aware of his species sir and, if you remember, I reported his illicit business activities, including the loopholes he used to make them legal, on the night of the attack. It was why I was in the office when the forces were called out to take him in.”

“And you’re willing to take his made up on the fly fibs as a possible truth, and waste your time and energy on investigating them?”

“If I may explain myself sir…”

“This should be good,” Bogo muttered to himself, cutting Judy off. There was a short silence, before he waved his hand slightly at her, signalling that she should carry on.

“I believe that, even if this is all a set of lies, we will be saving time and effort by taking simple measures to disprove them,” Judy continued. “If we ignore them, Wilde will continue to bring them up. He’ll continue to press the point on and on and on, which will only take up more police time or court time. Case in point, how he hauled me back to these plates when I was interviewing him. Had I not spent an hour the night before checking the jam cams and doing some basic cross referencing, then he’d have been able to go on and on and on about them.”

Bogo looked at her silently for a few seconds, before snorting and standing back up. One of his ears flicking, he turned to face away from her, looking out of the window as his shoulders slumped somewhat. When he did speak, his voice was slow and tired. “But you want to follow on, with these plates, anyway…”

“As I said sir, there were some… -irregularities,” Judy explained.

“Explain,” he ordered.

“Wilde said that there was a sole wolf who invaded his office and darted the bear in front of several witnesses…”

“Who we can’t talk to,” Bogo grunted, “because Mayor Swinton has chosen to enforce some rarely used clauses of the harmony act all for some political point scoring…”

Judy looked at him for a few seconds, trying to work out whether he was annoyed at her for bringing up the ineligible witnesses or the mayor for making them so in the first place. A few seconds passed in silence, before Bogo loudly cleared his throat, turning to half look at her as he did so.

Jolting up slightly, Judy nodded before carrying on. “In any case, I was able to spot several cars leaving just before the first initial panic, as well as the ones afterwards. In all of those, there was only one car with just the one wolf in it. It left, if our timeline is correct, about five minutes after the darting took place. Right in line with when this attacker would be leaving.”

“I thought you said that you disproved Wilde,” Bogo said. “Explain, Hopps.”

Judy blinked a few times, thinking back, before remembering. “That was to do with the name of the wolf, sir. Nick did suggest that the name, ‘Lupus Savage’, that was given to him was a fabrication. However, I pushed him on after that as I was aiming to get a confession, plea deal, and evidence of where his companions were.”

“And where are they?” Bogo pressed.

“A fennec companion has no fixed address,” Judy said. “He was legally homeless, though we think he lived in a van or something. The cheetah and Honey Badger are both registered, as tenant and owner respectively, to a small house in Happytown. By small, it is apparently too small even for me. However, I am not in charge of tracking them down. All I know is that the surviving parents of all three, and the Badger’s and Fennec’s siblings, have been questioned.”

“I see you at least know your place here, and aren’t trying to over extend yourself,” the chief commented. Judy relaxed somewhat, knowing that the neutral tone meant that he was complimenting her, in his own unique way.

“Back to the matter at hand,” Judy replied, “while Wilde is recovering I went down to the crime scene and was able to procure the reservation book. A Lupus Savage did book in there, and did sign in on that night, thus supporting Wilde’s story, as does evidence of him being sprayed with fox repellent. I’m certain that our investigators, who are turning that place over, will find even more clues as time goes on.”

Bogo grunted and sighed, resting his forehead in one of his hooves. “Wasn’t this supposed to make things simpler?”

“Simpler, or finding out the truth,” Judy pointed out, beginning to let a little bit of smugness into her face and voice. “Both things we want, are they not?”

“We’re police officers Hopps,” Bogo reminded her. “So yes, however much I don’t care, I agree we should. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Judy replied. “The most important piece, which I saved for last. When I first identified the wolf car in the jam cams, I also used our resources to look up their registered addresses and track them down. I had them noted down, but after the incident with Lenora…”

“Don’t…!” Bogo interrupted, “remind… me… of… Lenny!”

…

“It’s Lenora sir,” Judy meekly pointed out.

“I don’t care,” Bogo replied. “Or at least I won’t until he actually finished his… procedure.”

…

“After the incident, I forgot about them for a bit,” Judy continued. “However, I had a closer look at things other than the addresses, and a closer look at the addresses as well. The wolf’s car is registered as being owned by a sheep. It’s registered to a sheep apartment, in a sheep apartment building in a sheep part of town.”

“And…?” Bogo asked.

One of Judy’s ears flopped down, and her nose twitched slightly. “Don’t you think it’s… unusual?”

“What is?” Bogo sarcastically asked. “As a detective in training, surely you’re familiar with this thing called stealing? Surely, it hasn’t escaped your brain that your mysterious wolf, who has no reason for attacking Wilde’s business I may add, may have stolen this car?”

…

“You really think I didn’t check the records for reports of cars being stolen?” Judy asked.

Bogo nodded slightly. “Apologies. I do agree, it is unusual. There are a lot of unusual things about this case. The question is, what do you want to do about it?”

“Just visit the apartment for a quick chat?” Judy suggested.

Bogo looked at her sceptically. “Anything else on your schedule?”

Judy shrugged back. “Not until Mr Wilde wakes up from his surgery, no.”

The large cape buffalo sighed, and waved her off with his hoof. “Just do your thing,” he grunted. “I don’t want the mayor pressuring me again for keeping you on a leash.”

“Thank you, sir,” Judy said back, her arm shooting up into a salute. “I’ll do you proud, sir.”

Bogo watched her slide off the seat and land on the toes of her feet, already turning and skipping off to the door. Shaking his head at both the blessing and the curse of having to deal with her, he sat down, hoping that things would just be kept simple.

.

Three hours later, he was standing in the rain and chewing on his words.

Things were not getting simpler.

Far from it.

And while the chance to run after and find some hidden truth, in doing so fighting for justice, did warm a fire inside of him, it was currently more than put out by the falling rain.

Walking forward, hoof in front of hoof, he slowly crossed the rope bridge that connected one section of this district to another. It swayed beneath him, creaking with his weight as he passed the midpoint. Technically, the rope bridges up in the highest parts of the rainforest district were meant to be able to support the weight of an obese elephant, though he was sceptical of that. He didn’t trust the people who built this bridge, the people who lived around here and especially those who said he was wrong to feel like that.

The region, not quite part of the rainforest below and not quite part of the meadowlands further north, had the unofficial nickname of the cloud forest district, due to the condensation that occurred as hot rainforest air was blown up.

He didn’t care for that.

He was built for hot and dry, and while it was lukewarm rather than cold, there was a pervasive drizzle that was slowly soaking him down to the bone. He had an umbrella, not that it worked in this climate, and he held it above him as he walked on.

“Why did that bunny cop drag us out here,” muttered another voice, and Bogo turned to see one of his fellow officers behind him. The boar, one of his sniffers and best deputies, seemed just as displeasured with the area as he was. He certainly had a right to be so, as, ideally, he wouldn’t be in such a place. Were it not for a bad knee, he would certainly be an elite razorback, though fate had meant that wasn’t the case.

“She said she found something. We’re here to investigate,” Bogo reminded him.

The boar snorted. “Something to help that fox? Why should we care? Do you even care?”

“No,” Bogo replied back. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to avoid doing my job.”

The boar was silent as they carried on, emerging from a cloud and spotting the end of the bridge up in the distance. Landing on a narrow green lawn, a path led from it to the rocky opening of a large apartment complex, looking as if it were carved into the towering rock stack itself. Flashing neon lights and tired orange windows shone out and, in front of the lobby, stood Judy Hopps and two sheep.

She walked forward to meet the two as they stepped back onto terra-firma, her paw shooting up into a swift and stern salute.

“At ease,” Bogo said, and Judy let her paw go back down. Already, the boar had his radio out, giving the all clear for officer McHorn to come on over. The buffalo however walked over to the sheep, looking from one to the other as he waited for an explanation.

“Brian Wooldridge,” the first introduced himself, holding out a hoof to Bogo.

“Chief Bogo,” he replied back, taking hold of it and giving a firm handshake.

Wincing, before taking his paw back and giving it a good flick, Brian looked up nervously. “I manage the complex, including Bell Conagher’s apartment,” he said. “For all intents and purposes, he was an ideal tenant. Softly spoken, kept to his own business. Rent always in on time, and no complaints from anyone else.”

Bogo shook his head. “It’s always the quiet ones.”

Brian nodded, “I guess so, sir. It was a shock to see all those… things in there, not that I can make much headway over what they mean.”

“That’s our job, don’t you worry,” Judy informed him, as she walked over.

Off in the distance, McHorn was appearing out of the mist. The bridge shook and creaked with each step, and the boar looked on distastefully.

“Why do you sheep even want to live like this?” he asked, turning to face Brian.

The landlord shrugged. “During Zootopia’s construction, this area was modelled after the cliff cities and the Goatzengrat’s. We have plenty of goats and sheep here who like the climate, given that it helps our wool and grows some excellent grass. Thanks to the sky trams, commuting into the city isn’t that bad either, and the prices are very reasonable.”

“The prices are reasonable in happytown too,” the boar commented. “But even the preds are abandoning that. And what about getting in furniture, how would you get that over that death trap bridge?”

“I think they use cargo blimps, don’t they?” Judy suggested, smiling as Brian nodded.

The boar just scoffed, looking back over at the bridge. “My brother had a house with an empty loft at the edge of the meadowlands and tried to subdivide that space into tier S1 level apartments. They buried him in enough paperwork to make it not worth the time, with things such as ‘easy parking’ and ‘lawn minimums’. Yet you have a murder bridge, steep cliffs and enough moisture to irrigate savannah square. Sometimes this city…”

“Meadowlands bureaucracy,” Brian snorted. “Plenty of sheep who want to get out the city but keep the poor and preds in. It’s not so bad now that they pay the climate system tax too, but still. I guess we’re all black sheep here.”

“Ooooh,” Judy butted in. “I think the correct term is… ‘melanistic’ ovine?”

Brian’s ear twitched slightly, as he turned back to Bogo and the newly arrived McHorn, who was panting and smiling as he rested, kneeling down, on the solid earth. He looked up at Brian and shook his head. “How do you live like this?”

“We don’t have time for that,” Bogo announced. “Pull yourself together Mchorn, we’ve got an apartment to investigate.”

Bogo, Judy, the boar and the sheep left, walking straight towards the building. Mchorn, his hands on his knees, looked up at them and grunted. “Bogo,” he cursed. “I told you I don’t like heights, and you led me here…” He stood up, before marching after them. “You are going to have live spiders in your desk sooner than you think, either that or a revelation of which certain fan club you belong to, months of parking duty be damned.”

Entering through the lobby of the building, the group past burly and rough sheep walking this way and that. Many turned to look at them and, as they entered the central courtyard, a whole herd of lambs began tracking them. Judy looked at them and smiled, beginning to spell tales of her time in the force and handing out stickers. Close behind, Brian told tales of how the Texan accented sheep had arranged the apartment over the internet without even viewing.

“I’ve got a twenty percent vacancy,” he explained, as they began climbing up some steps. “And this sheep came on, picked easily the worst apartment I had, said that he didn’t care for a modernisation or anything. Heck, he pays an extra thirty bucks of rent a month. As I said before, perfect tenant.”

“And you didn’t consider there might be an ulterior motive,” Bogo pressed, Brian shaking his head back.

“Nothing like a nip farm or something,” he dismissed, shaking his head. “We have central metering, and the last time someone tried that I ratted him out before he could even get the first harvest in.”

“What about inspections?”

“We always announce those in advance,” Brian shrugged. “I think he must have taken down all his things. Anyway, here we are.”

The group stopped. They were several decks up, outside an apartment carved into the rock. Its small balcony area had been taped off, with several officers standing guard by it. Judy, waving off her small gaggle of young followers, ducked beneath and waved on her older ones. As they entered, Bogo paused outside and looked around. Layers of flats surrounded him on all sides, all with little terraces on the outside and all with sheep, just sitting there. Just watching, their eyes all trained on him.

Bogo shook his head and walked in. The boar officer was already up ahead, venting about how this was legal but his brothers plan wasn’t. Onwards they went, past the door to the kitchen, before turning right, then right and then right again. Through a bathroom and into a main bedroom, at which point Bogo sighed.

This wasn’t going to save them time.

This wasn’t going to make things simpler.

It was going to make them a lot, lot more complicated.

“I get it’s a map of the city, and you have all these pictures of predators,” Brian was saying, “but what connects them.”

“What connects them is that they all went savage,” Judy explained.

“I… yeh, I think I remember some of these,” the sheep replied, slowly pointing at some of the pictures. “So, you think Bell was trying to find some kind of cause? You think he thought that he was trying to find some other explanation, bar the obvious savage reversion?”

“No,” Judy replied, shaking her head. She looked at the notes, the dates and the pictures. “I think he is, at least in part, that other explanation.”

Brian’s eyes went wide, as Judy slowly lifted a finger and traced it along one of the string lines. It went from some notes and business cards, along with a picture of a smiling fox with two thumbs stuck up, down to the outline of a warehouse on the happytown side of the bay. And then Judy’s radio beeped. Pulling it up to her ear, she listened in closely. Her ears suddenly rising, her eyes widening, she gasped.

“What is it?” Brian asked.

Judy put down her radio, and turned to face them all. “I think we’ve stumbled on to conclusive proof that predators, rather than just reverting to savagery, are being targeted, drugged and made to turn. At the very least, the one who went savage at Wild Times suffered this fate. Nicholas Wilde was telling the truth.”

Mchorn, the sheep and the boar all gasped, shocked at the news. Behind them all, Bogo sighed. He couldn’t help but think, _‘why can’t things just be simple’._

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The chain was still annoying, but the extra slack that he’d been provided with was a blessed relief. The agony in his nether regions had also subsided, only being a dull ache compared to the blistering torture it had been previously. So, curled up with his nose tuckered under the tip of his tail, Nick spent his time both resting and complaining to the guards assigned to guard him, who’d found new ways of humiliating him.

“You know, this is all unnecessary?” he said, raising his head from his attempted slumber as he heard the giggle of a new guard coming onto duty.

“Does it look like I care, fox?” the ram officer said, snickering to the moose officer beside him as he did so. Digging down with a hoof, he pulled out his camera and Nick’s eyes went wide.

“Oh no you don’t,” he grunted, bringing his tail back around into a spiral while using his free paw to make sure his rear end was fully covered by his gown. “If you think I’m going to let you humiliate me by posting me in my current state onto furbook, then you are sorely mistaken.”

“It’s only a matter of time,” the officer teased. “And I think that predators seeing their new hero like this will be enough to stop them idolising you.”

“No,” the fox grunted, speaking into the fur of his tail. “Instead, I think they’ll just feel sorry for me. Why? Because of the fact that, due to your colleague’s incompetence, I was attacked by a savage rhino and suffered serious damage to my fox-hood. In fact, they might find it cool, seeing as it’s now titanium reinforced.”

“Yeah, right,” the ram officer said. He snorted, a cunning grin on his mouth as he ribbed the fellow officer who was present, a largely silent moose, in the arm and waved him down. Leaning down so that the smaller officer could whisper in his ear, the larger one burst into a cackling laugh, nodding furiously as he did so.

“Oh Jeeez… here comes something new,” Nick moaned, before feeling two large hooves grab his ankles. Eyes widening, he grabbed hold of the bed rail with his paws and held on, trying to keep his feet curled up as he did so. Well outmatched in strength though, his grip failed and Nick felt his legs pulled out tight and wide, exposing the area within. The ram, leaning in with a mock gracefulness, playfully pinched on side of Nick’s hospital gown and peeled it away, fully exposing the top of the leg it had covered. Repeating the task for the other side, Nick couldn’t help but let his self-control go slightly, his collar warming up to orange at his mixture of simmering anger and coursing humiliation.

…

“You know,” the moose officer mused out loud. “That isn’t as humiliating as I thought.”

“No…. no,” the sheep beside him said.

Nick silently closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Though…”

Opening his eyes again, he trained them on the sheep officer, who was scratching his chin. The moose officer looked on too, and spoke.

“Though what?”

“He wanted to be like a little fox kit, right? Without a collar,” the sheep said, giggling as he did so. “I think it would be fitting to dress him up like one.”

“What do you mean?” the moose asked.

“I saw a stack of white ‘incontinence pads’ a bit of a way back. Put those on him and take the picture…”

Nick felt the blood leave his face, his collar going orange at the same time. The moose officer just stayed silent for a bit before speaking. “You’re weird, you know that?”

The sheep paid him no mind, instead turning to the captive fox, who just turned and grumbled to himself. “Well, I suppose this is karma for what I did to Finnick,” he mused, whispering as the ram spoke out.

“We’re going to show the world what a giant baby you are, fox!”

“Officer Texel! What are you talking about!?”

Both officers yelped with shock as Judy shouted at them, the ram quickly stuffing his phone deep into his wool. He stuttered, coughing as he retreated, as the bunny marched right up to him. Her nose twitching, foot thumping on the floor like a ticker tape machine, she silently waited for an answer.

“I-uhh…” the ram stuttered, before the moose came forward.

“He suggested putting our prisoner into one of the incontinence pads, and releasing a picture of it onto the internet.

Judy groaned, bringing her palm sharply up against her face before dragging it down. “Did they teach you about professionalism in the academy, or did you skip those classes?” The ram opened his mouth to speak, only for Judy to continue. “Just leave us here, both of you.”

They did so in silence, leaving Nick and Judy alone. Looking at each other, and awkward silence filled the room.

…

“Thank you,” Nick finally said, smiling as he looked at Judy. “That would have been creepy.”

“Agreed.”

“Fortunately, you turned up at just the right moment. For all I know, they could be in the middle of shaving my butt right now.”

Judy paused. “What do you mean, shave?”

“You know, shave the fur down there to make cleanup easier,” he explained, before shrugging. “Or I guess bunnies just don’t do that.”

“No,” she replied, whispering slightly. “We don’t… -anyway, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

 Nick raised a finger and opened his mouth, ready to ask a question, only to be brushed aside as Judy ignored him. She turned on the spot and waved in a large wildebeest, who was dressed up in a formal business suit. He glanced around, up, down, left and right, before settling Nick and bringing up a hoof in a weak wave. “Hello Mr Wilde. I’m Mr Wilderman, though you can call me Mr Kazar,” he said, his voice slurred slightly into a high-pitched drawl, a drunken hiccup almost expected at the tail-end. “I’m going to be your defence attorney, so I won’t be here to help you sue the ZPD for any of your injuries I’m afraid. However, I did hear of some personal injury lawyers, for you I might add, who you might be interested in. Sadly, I was driving at the time, so couldn’t write down the number they gave on the radio…”

Nick snorted slightly and, as he sat up and covered himself back up with his hospital gown, he shot a venomous glare at Judy. “I’m happy to know that the criminal justice system has my back in this.” Looking back at Mr Kazar, scanning up and down as he took in the smiling lawyer, Nick gave a bitter huff through his lips. “His seeming competence is truly inspiring.”

“Why thank you,” Mr Kazar happily replied. “Now, before I advise you on your guilty plea, I must state that you do seem quite irritated. I know it’s embarrassing, but having overheard that conversation, I must advise that trying to ignore your new-found incontinence will only result in a nasty mess for everyone involved. Think about it, everyone. Most importantly me…”

.

Nick’s face, fixed in a half-lidded stare of utter contempt, could have been carved of stone in that moment. The room was completely silent, bar the soft beep his collar made as it lit up a cautious amber.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Dear Melony.

.

We may never know what she was thinking, but any idea why exactly junior detective Hopps chose to investigate further? Also, what exactly were the leads she was following?

.

Love, Grima.

.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Patience Grima, patience…

.

Given that Wilde was attacked by this piece of scat quisling wolf, he reasoned that he must have driven there and back. Thus, he asked Judy (when he passed her after being arrested) to try and trace his vehicle.

Officer Hopps did so, an exercise that likely took a few minutes of her time, likely to sate some niggling curiosity and to try and prove Wilde wrong. This happened before or after the initial interview, I presume after (her curiosity piqued by his persistence on the subject). It would be a simple affair, looking for a vehicle leaving Wild times with a wolf in the driving seat.

I’m guessing that, after having reports back from the lab which showed fox-rep (I still feel my faith in mammality die a little more whenever I remember that this is a thing) traces in the fur around his eyes, she was interested enough to investigate further. She traced the wolf/ sheep back to an apartment in the cloud forest/ meadowlands border region, where she found the infamous Alpaccor heights cache.

As Wilde recovered, this spurred a far more thorough sweep of Wild times, and the discovery of more evidence that supported his story. Suffice to say, I think that for the first time since that night, Nicholas would have felt a glimmer of hope.

Regards, Mel.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

“So, you did run the plates!”

_Beeep…_

Judy and Kazar flinched back as Nick’s collar turned to red, a short and sudden shock racing through him. Eyes closing and teeth gritting, he held through the coursing electric sting, shaking for its whole two second length even as every fur on his body spiked up.

.

Taking a deep breath in, Nick opened his eyes again and relaxed. Reaching up with a paw to rub the throbbing region that lay beneath the shock unit, he grunted as he heard the rattle of his chain and felt the bite of the cuff on his wrist. He looked down and shook the appendage, trying to shake some of the lingering tingling from it, all while he brought his other paw up to finish the job.

“Yes, I did,” Judy said, “though I see no reason to get mad about it, given that I did you a massive favour in doing so.”

Nick, his eyes closed as he rubbed his neck, opened them slightly and peered at her for a second or two, before shaking his head. “I’m not going to bother to explain that that wasn’t anger.”

“Rage then?” Mr Kazar offered, only to be met with a huff from the tip of the vulpine’s nose.

Nick ignored him, and turned to face Judy again. “What did you find?”

Clearing her throat, the bunny brought out an ipaw and loaded it up, before speaking. “I traced the sole car that was driven by a sole wolf to an apartment complex in the northern borders of the rainforest district. Some things… well, they felt off.”

“Such as the fact that few preds, yet alone wolves, try to set up there?” Nick asked, Judy nodding in response.

“Indeed, and the address it was registered to was home to a sheep.” Nick’s eyebrows raised as Judy continued, tapping on the ipaw to bring up a set of pictures. As she turned it and Nick looked on, his eyes widened at the sight. A damp and mouldy bedroom, with a vast map plastered onto the far wall, showing all the main districts of the city. Pinned up around the borders, and linked to various sites across it via string lines, were photographs.

Wolves, lions, various big cats and several bears. All predators and, amongst them, a sole fox.

“That… that’s me,” Nick stuttered, gulping slightly. “I was targeted. I was attacked, only…”

“Only, if what you say is true, your attacker went for Jor… -your bear friend, in order to cause more chaos,” Judy stated. Looking up, her eyes met Nick’s for a second, as the fox’s head slowly tilted to one side. Judy gave a little smile, before turning back to the ipaw. “I am a junior detective you know. I have to have an investigatory mind to get that position, and a thirst for the truth.”

“Which is odd,” Nick said, a sly grin growing on his muzzle. “Because I thought you just needed someone to give you one of those stick…OWW!”

Pulling back sharply, Nick yelped at the short sharp punch Judy had given him, before his ears rose at the sound of his collar beeping red. A sudden shock jittered him, making him yelp a second time. It was only a short one, though it still hurt, and it left Nick’s senses scrambled once more. Whining as he slowly unwound from the pain of both the punch and his shock, he opened his eyes and laid them onto Judy, widening them out to make himself as pitiful as possible. “Police brutality…” he whined, whimpering as if he were a kit as he looked on at Judy.

The bunny looked away bashfully, and mumbled out her response. “Sorry…”

Nick leant down more, upping his canine whimpering, only for Judy to turn around and place her finger on his nose, pushing him back up.

“Keep that up and I’ll go to the maternity ward and actually get a diaper, cry baby,” she warned, before turning back to the ipaw. Flicking through, she passed more pictures of the apartment, before pausing on one that made Nick’s heart sink.

Wild Times.

His Wild Times.

Police tape and markers crisscrossed it while attraction after attraction had been pulled down, broken or gutted in one way or another. Debris from the stampede, both of fleeing preds and the savage bear, littered the floor, while the once vibrant colours seemed to be faded and worn.

“Doing this to make me miserable again?” Nick groaned, a tear escaping his eye as the soft beep of his collar warming up to orange rang out.

“I’m sorry, but we have to be thorough,” Judy lectured. “And I think it’ll all be worth it, for this.” Skipping on, the image settled on a tiny item that was held in a clear evidence bag. Nick’s head tilted as he leant in closer, before he turned to Judy.

“Is that the dart he, the wolf, used?”

Judy looked closer, and nodded.

Her eyes then opened in shock as she felt Nick’s arm wrap around her. Dragged in, she felt her cheek rub against his hospital gown and a large red paw plant itself on her side. Police training kicking in, she started to lunge for her bottle of fox repellent, only to pause, paws barely on the clip, as Nick spoke.

“Thankyou…”

Pausing, Judy looked back up at Nick, warm consented smile and orange collar full in view. Glancing up and down, she cleared her throat and slowly slipped out. “Well,” she said, “that’s what we do at the ZPD. I hope that I’ve proven a lot of the unfair stereotypes you have about us wrong.”

Nick slowly nodded, and spoke out into the air dreamily. “I’m not going to jail… They’ll know I’m innocent. I’ll…”

“Plead guilty…”

The sound of Mr Kazar broke Nick out of his dream like a stone dropped in a pond. He looked over  at the wildebeest, and spoke. “Why? I’m…”

“Still going to trial for all sorts of crimes,” Mr Kazar almost cheerily said. “Failure to provide proper containment for a predator with a removed collar. Whether he went savage naturally or induced, it doesn’t matter. You broke the law. There is also professional misconduct. Gross endangerment of mammal life. The law is the law, and you broke it. Doesn’t matter if someone breaking the law at the same time amplified the effects.”

Nick blinked, and growled. “I suppose it’s too much to ask for a pardon,” he began, “given all the eyewitnesses…”

“No eyewitnesses!” Mr Kazar butted in. “Or, at least, no eye-witnesses that will be allowed to stand. Personally, I think that’s a great deal for them. I’d have them all locked up, sent to jail or juvie for a while, just to tell other preds that it’s not worth messing around with the collars. Keep ‘em on and keep smiling, that’s what I say!”

Nick looked back at Judy, then his lawyer, then back again. “Is that the way it is?” he asked, slowly and carefully with a hint of menace in every word. His collar glowed orange, simmering on the border of a shock, as the other two slowly nodded.

“Unless the mayor decides to give you a pardon, which I will try and ask about, then it’s up to the jury,” Judy replied.

“You mean the jury I swore being sworn in?” Nick asked. “The one waving their fox tasers about, ready for their savage hunt?”

“That’s a bit extreme,” Judy bashfully replied. “At the worst, they’ll want you to go to jail and…”

“Well then,” Nick sternly interrupted, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath in. Instincts and logic screamed at him from different directions, calling on him to do different things. Things he’d been doing one way or another for all of his life. However, he felt something powerful in his heart. The last time he’d followed it he’d create Wild times and, despite all that had happened, he had, and would never have, any regrets about that. He opened his eyes, ready to follow his heart once again. “If they so want me to go to jail, I’ll go down kicking and screaming! I’ll kick and scream so much, that every other pred will hear it! If your law was built to condemn me, even when I can prove my innocence, then I’ll tear down your law, and call on others to do it for me, until it can’t keep me imprisoned any longer!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is well known that Nick can pull on 99.99999% of fashions. That remaining 0.00001% is why Finnick goes as the baby. For those of you who you read the original version of the story, you'll note that I changed this scene around a bit. This, and a lot of the stuff around the 'alternative Judy backstory' that I tried to fit in here, were toned down as in hindsight they didn't fit in.
> 
> Mr Kazar is one of two references to a film I saw once in primary school. As a result I'm not a reliable judge to say whether it was underrated or not. Regardless, here you have the second worst realization of who's defending you that any fictional character has ever had. At the very least though, he didn't drop his wig into the moat and have to dry it with his mothers hairdryer.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4:**

**.**

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima,

.

Yesterday was fun, wasn’t it?

.

‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’

.

Anyway, play and rest are done so onto work, though in this case there is little that I think is required of me, is there?

I still remembering watching Nick’s trial like it was yesterday.

The revelation that there was some conspiracy against predators… The news that the savage reversions, which had so damaged our cause since they started, were being induced by terrorists using chemical weapons… The fact that Predators all over felt that Nicholas Wilde would be freed, only to then find that they planned to try him anyway. God damn it, I was pissed, and I bet that it was simmering and boiling so much more powerfully under the skin of every one of our collared brothers and sisters. I was certain that this would be the beginning of something new; a flammable vapour in the air just waiting for the one spark to set it off.

I was running around prey neighbourhoods, trying to get mammals to sign the petitions to give him a pardon. I may have only got a hundred signatures after all that mind numbing, back breaking, often humiliating work. But it would have been worth it just to get a tenth of that. I handed the prey petition to the mayor, at the same time the pred one was handed in too. I remember how my heart sank when she brought out the petition signed by mammals who were against it, who wanted him to face the full force of the law or more, to be tried as a collar thief like his parents were.

At the end of the day, all you need is for ten percent of the prey mammals to be jerks and you’ll never get anywhere with pred rights. The mayor just shrugged and said, ‘democracy’, before we moved on. Looking back, I can at least find solace in the fact that, together, our petitions did come close to matching their one.

I watched the proceedings on a livestream to see if the spark would come from there. I could only feel the pressure grow as Nicholas was slandered and insulted, the fact that this was a kangaroo court bare to see for anyone who bothered to look.

And that speech.

That speech…

I don’t think it’ll win any awards, but it was good to see someone grab those who ignored the obvious and then thrust their faces in it.

I’m not sure how much difference it made in the long run, but it did feel good to hear.

It felt damn good.

Don’t you agree?

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Dear Melony,

You understand you’re preaching to the choir here?

.

I remember the packs of wolves and coyotes standing on the cobbles of Lunus square, blocking the city hall and courts. I made my placard and fitted it onto my back and joined them. It may have been a more awkward affair out in Zootopia, but here so many prey understand that the heart and soul of Canidaea is in the heart of the canine family. They understand the evil of the collars and, for every predator there, there was a prey as well.

We advanced forward on the day before the proceedings, singing the old songs sung when predators and prey first tried to forge a true peace, us following in their paw steps as we tried to finish the job. The sky was a ghostly pale blue, ribbed with herringbone clouds. It had rained in the small hours of the morning, so the bright early summer sun was sparking off the drops which hung on the budding trees on Wolfe’s mount.

Oh Melony, you should have seen us as we advanced up the hill. I was at the front, and was one of the first to see the fake collar some prey punk had tied around the general’s neck. I charged forward, with half a dozen others, and we were up there tearing the thing off. We ripped it down to the chain and padlock, and then we were calling out for anyone who could pick the lock.

A wolverine girl, with a beaver in tow, stepped forward and together we lifted them up and they uncollared old James, just as he should be. I still have that picture. Whenever one of the few remaining speciesist jerks in our part of town tries to rattle on to me about how pred and prey were meant to be separate, I always flash that little number out. The only better one I ever got was of the pair afterwards, the beaver sticking her paw under the wolverine’s collar, so that for once she could kiss her love without hurting her at the same time. I still have that one too, and if and when the couple are ready to come out (and they tell me so), I’ll be posting it about at twice the rate.

But, in the name of unity, the UMC troops came in and began breaking us up. Well, at least our local cops came first to warn us. If they were still allowed to carry keys, I’d bet that every collar would be removed by that evening. Instead, we quickly dissipated before the troops imposed on us from afar, to make sure we keep this injustice going, arrived. However much we want the collars gone from our part of the world, that lot, from the speciesist seven (or the terrible ten, as some say), want to make sure they’re enforced globally. Fortunately, we got out before they arrived to water canon us.

At the very least, they don’t use live rounds.

Unlike the ‘peacekeeper’ forces that have occupied Katavulpia for the last century or so.

.

It wasn’t as if we planned to change the world or anything. We knew that the congress didn’t dare let us try going without collars, lest the corruption spread. Why else so harden access to the keys for our doctors and police? But still, we turned up because we wanted to. Even if it was a futile gesture, it was a gesture. And I think that is the main thing.

I hoped that Nicholas Wilde could see us somehow. Know that he was not alone.

And so, thanks to the miracle of time zones, I was up at five that morning to watch the first day of the trial.

And you are right Melony. It may have been a kangaroo court (as well as a trial specifically designed to give him a guilty verdict as fast as possible), but listening to someone finally say it like it is was most definitely satisfying.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The court house was silent as Nick was brought up to the stand. They’d let him wear a suit and tie, rather than a humiliating prison uniform, while no chains bounded themselves to his limbs. Recovered from his injuries, all the stitches and tubes removed, he stepped up under the watchful eye of the officers behind him. Finding the most comfortable step of the stand to rest on, he planted himself there, giving him a view over the assembled mammals.

To his left stood a jury of fourteen mammals, all prey. A moose, a deer doe, a small armadillo and a ram with black wool were all sat down, with ten bunnies sat around them. Nick remembered the last ones as they were shown on the news, their fox-tasers and repellent proudly holstered on their belts. He remembered the judge too, who towered over him to his right. The massive red kangaroo jack looked down at him with a view of contempt, his nostrils flaring as their eyes met, before Nick looked away. His gaze passed over the crowd of assembled mammals in the seating areas, many of them taking notes on what was going on. Closer to him was his lawyer, who was looking away with dread. The prosecutor, meanwhile, looked on emotionlessly, even though the impala had only just got down from scathing and slandering him with every word he’d spoke. Dangerous, savage, rebellious, untrustworthy, greedy, arrogant… They’d sailed all over his head, Nick not caring one bit at this point. At this one moment in time, he didn’t care what any of them thought. Instead, all he cared about was what he thought.

He swore to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so fast that it seemed to be over before it began. The room was silent for a second, before he cleared his throat and spoke.

“I would like to thank you up here for calling me to speak,” he said, smiling as he fidgeted with the scrappy grey tie they’d afforded him. “I always thought of myself as a people’s person, and so maybe I should be happy to be called up here, to challenge my skills of negotiation to the limit? Maybe I should be excited that I’ve finally found fame and, although not fortune, the knowledge that, whatever happens, after this I won’t be moving back into a damp and leaky apartment that most self-respecting fungi would turn their nose up at.”

He swept his gaze around at the courthouse, palms up, open and level and his smile and eyes wide open; and then he planted his paws on the edge of the stand, leant over and got serious. “But I’m not happy to be up here,” he said, before letting an edge of sarcasm into his voice. “You want to know why? You want to really know, oh members of the jury who I remember so proudly waving their speciesist weapons when they were sworn in?”

He paused, letting a few of them squirm meekly, before carrying on.

“As far as I can tell, my innocence was proven when it was found out that I was targeted. When the ZPD discovered the proof that Jorge went savage, not due to some fault in his genes or lack of self-control or primal reversion, but because of a small dart fired at him. A dart with traces of his blood on it, and traces of chemicals which several biologists have proven to cause uncontrollable rage and anger in any mammal hit, prey or pred. He, and all those that went savage, have been provisionally released or are being released, from what I’ve heard. So, hooray! Case closed. Let’s accept that I had nothing to do with what happened to him, that I didn’t cause or lead to it, and thus all say let it be.”

His arms waved out open and wide, and he couldn’t help but look at the scowling figure of the judge and give him a wink. “Maybe we could all gather around a campfire and sing kumbaya!?”

The kangaroo’s nostrils flared up again, the hot breath of his snort drifting over Nick, who then turned back to face the jury. “Only whoopsie, we wouldn’t go back to that would we? Because all you prey mammals out there who still want me jailed can’t accept that us preds don’t need collars, can you? You can’t even accept the idea that there’s a possibility we might not need them? Can you?”

The prey mammals waiting in the stand looked at him, and each other, with confused looks on their faces. For all Nick could care though, they were looks of guilt. “Because,” he slowly said, anger beginning to drip into his voice. “That would make you realise that you… are… the… bad guys!”

His collar went orange from the satisfaction of seeing their shell-shocked expressions and, knowing he didn’t want to give them the joy of seeing him shock himself, he stood back and leant against the edge of his stand. “So instead, you still decide to throw me into this nice, and I mean nice by the way, no veneer or anything, dock and say that I still need to be punished,” he said, back in his happy go lucky voice with just a slice of savage sarcasm thrown in.

Deciding that he’d focussed on just the jury for too long, though, he turned and beckoned to the whole crowd in front of him. “Punished for what, I might ask? Be punished for the fact that, as a medical professional, I broke the oaths I took and did some very catchy ‘gross misconduct’. The fact that, as someone who took off predator’s collars, I didn’t take the ‘reasonable precautions’ to make sure that said preds wouldn’t stream out and cause a riot. Be punished for the fact that I grossly endangered the public...”

“It seems the fox can listen,” the prosecutor said just a bit too loud, sending the entire courtroom into a mix between a murmur and a giggle. The judge, pounding down his gavel, silenced them and gave Nick an ill-tempered look, telling him to carry on. He nodded, and let a bit of inviting warmth into his voice as he continued.

“I understand that in order to feign your sense of innocence and moral superiority, you have to dress up said charges with fancy names. However, let me tell you what my real charges are, charges I’m all too happy to admit my guilt to.”

The warmth in his voice vanished and, for the first time, anger truly began to show as Nick raised his voice. “I am a fox, a mammal that society has irrationally decided to hate. Guilty! I am a predator, a group of mammals who are mistreated and robbed of their emotional freedom, from rage to joy to love to sorrow. Guilty! But, far worse than those two, I am a fox, a predator, who dared to try and create a fleeting glimpse of what it was like to be an equal! And I am so… so… guilty of that, that the guilt covers me. It drips off of me. And I wouldn’t have it any other way!”

The courthouse, even more speechless now than it seemed before, was almost in thrall to Nick’s words. Trapped before them, like a deer in front of headlights, unable to turn away as more came. Nick, meanwhile, was no longer angry. Instead regret, melancholy, pain and nostalgia and hope and sadness and a hundred other emotions entered his voice.  “To have that… glimmer of passion and joy,” he began, stuttering as he tried to put his feelings into words “To feel things so strong, so fantastic, I cannot put them into words here.”

A soft hum of a collar going up to orange filled the room. A tear flowed down a red furred cheek.

“To do all those things that you all decided to take away from us, and that you take for granted every second and every minute and every hour of your lives… It is… it is…”

“Something completely irrelevant to this case, Mr Wilde!”

Nick snapped out of his mood and looked up to see the judge looming above him, his stern face the thing from nightmares. Taking a deep breath in, Nick tried his best to clear him head. A foot paw patting on the floor, a few shakes and pinches of the bridge of his muzzle.

Finally, the mask went up, and a sly and smiling fox looked forward and spoke. “I see that you want me to get back onto the charges you’re brought against me?” he asked, waiting for a confirming nod from above. A tiniest of ones came, and the fox carried on.

 “Fine,” he said, paw on his heart. “I am a medical professional, technically, and I do remember the Hippocratic oath. It’s fitting that it’s called that, as it’s a nice describer of all those other doctors who swore to do no harm.”

He revelled in the confused murmur that washed over him. Eyes closed, head tilting back, he soaked it in before letting his trusty sarcastic voice take over. “Let me suggest something that might blow your minds. That I don’t expect you to believe, though I don’t expect you to believe anything that comes out of the mouth of anyone unfortunate to be born a vulpine. What… if, I was the one doctor in this city not breaking his oath? The one doctor who had decided to not do harm? The one doctor who actually isn’t permitting or conducting, ‘misconduct’.”

This time it was a roar of confusion. The prosecutor was up, and objecting to it all. “This is madness you’re talking about and you know it! How on earth you could every leap to such a twisted logic I don’t…”

“Do you know the suicide rate for preds is ten times the rate of prey!?” Nick shouted, cutting off the prosecutor just as the gavel came down to silence the lot of them. Both he, and the mammal below them retreated, before he repeated his question.

“Do you know the suicide rate for preds is ten times the rate of prey?”

The prosecutor didn’t answer. Nick scowled, though he stilled breathed deeply, carefully balancing and controlling his emotions. “Did you know that we’re far more likely to die of heart failure? We have far higher cases of raised blood pressure and all else?”

…

“That’s you,” Nick accused. “That’s you and your collars harming us…”

The prosecutors mouth opened, but he never got the chance to use it.

“Murdering us!”

…

“I was doing no harm,” Nick said quietly, with a little shrug, before starting to climb back up.  “I was doing more than no harm. I followed the oath I swore to the letter and broke no law, all to try and lance the wound of harm you caused us. Only now, because someone didn’t like it and they chose to act, I’m being held responsible for his actions!”

A sharp turn, and he faced the jury. His collar went orange, as his control slowly went, grief beginning to return to his voice. “I created something wonderful! Something magic! Something so powerful and so beautiful that I’m having to hold back remembering it now… I don’t want to get a nasty shock for feeling too nostalgic, do I?

.

A deep breath, though his collar stayed orange, and he carried on. He wasn’t shouting anymore.

The pain had taken over.

“But it’s hard. Harder than you can know. Remembering children being children for the first time in years, playing and clapping and being happy. Seeing their dull eyes, weighed down by their wretched collar, spring back open as it was removed. The adults too! So many of them would grab their kits and cubs and pups and spin them around, smiling just as much as them. I saw lovers kissing in the corners and older preds, coming off kiddie rides, find somewhere to walk off and cry, grieving for what they missed in all those stained years…”

The hammering of the gavel shook Nick out of his speech. Looking up, he spotted the judge peering down at him, his eyes betraying how little he cared. “I’ve put up with this for a long time Wilde, longer than for most. But however much you try to paint yourself as the victim, you are a dangerous mammal. That bear was a dangerous mammal. You knew that. Every pred knows it but refuses to accept it, or lies about it to try and draw us prey into a trap. And what better trap than making us feel sorry for inherently dangerous children…”

“Dangerous…?” Nick whispered.

“I won’t repeat myself,” the judge scowled.

 “Dangerous you say? Well that’s high praise from a mammal whose kick could cave my chest in,” Nick replied back in a cheery charade of a voice. “It’s praise from mammals over there in the jury, armed with weapons that could fry me or blind me, and are certainly open about being willing to use them. It’s praise from those megafauna’s who can both deliberately or accidentally reduce my height to that of a mouse. It’s praise from those with horns that and antlers that they love to bash against each other’s, or who perform the majority of crime in this city.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the jury squirm. Turning around to face them, he dropped his gaze on the horned sheep who was about to speak, and cut him off. “It’s called ram raiding for a reason, you know?”

The woolly mammal’s jaw hung open, while Nick turned to face the crowd, arms wide open like a preacher. “Did anyone ever prove that I, and every other pred, are dangerous? That we need these, things…” he said, gesturing to his orange collar. “The only evidence that I’ve ever seen turned out to be thanks to these darting’s, so… null points prey mammals! And don’t trot out that ‘just to be safe’ call that I’ve had hurled at me all my life. Or at least, if you do… Collar every mammal species with a higher violence rate than the least violent pred. Ban cars too? What about stairs? People fall down stairs, just to be safe shouldn’t we abolish them? Collar or remove everything more dangerous than your average uncollared pred, after actually bothering to find out how dangerous that actually is, and then we can talk.”

.

There was a cough, the prosecutor rising. “What does this have to do with the charges you are actually facing,” he asked.

“I thought I just explained it to you all?” Nick replied. “I was under a moral obligation to do what I did. Tell me, those in the crowd, if you were in my place would you be that different?” Turning around, he faced the jury and looked at the ten bunnies there. “Bunnies of the jury, I bet you have dozens of children each,” he asked slowly, savouring their confused and worried looks. “Don’t you...?”

The gavel hammered down as he flinched once more. “I will not have you threatening my jurors in court, fox!” he screamed. “Yet alone their families. I’m tempted to have you thrown back into your prison uniform!”

“I wasn’t threatening them?” Nick explained. “I was testing a theory…”

One of the judge’s eyebrows rose, and Nick carried on, turning back to the jury. “A dozen bunny children, over a hundred bunny grandchildren. A thousand bunny great grandchildren and then over ten thousand and a hundred and a million, oh my!? Where will all the food and housing space come from? It seems we have a problem, don’t we?”

He enjoyed the looks they gave each other. Making other mammals aware of their own, very real, faults. “Bunnies of the jury, let me ask you if this sounds familiar?” Nick continued. “Slightly reclusive from society species is seen to be doing something that hurts everyone else. With us,” he said, pointing to himself. “It was due to bedtime stories passed on by you guys about how we were all evil incarnate. With you, it’s the fact that your skill at multiplying means that there’s not enough food for everyone else. Bar us preds though, given that we might be allowed to start fishing more in such a situation. But enough side-tracking, what if a load of other mammals decided you bunnies all needed collars to buzz you whenever you decided to uh… do the dirty?”

They began squirming. Squirming so much and he was loving it.

“And what if you hadn’t had a dozen children for generations and generations, but it was still done ‘just to be safe’?”

He paused, aware of the orange light around his neck. He would not let it, and them, ruin this.

“So,” Nick continued. “Going home to the love of your life? Trying to make a good date night… Zap! First kiss, Zap! Aborted first times and semi-virgin bunnies here, there and everywhere! Better put it on the young kids too, I hear they’re starting earlier now. You also solve teen pregnancy, so hurray! It’s good for you. You can’t complain.”

He let it all sink in for a few seconds, before he leaned down low and began tempting them. “Wouldn’t you want to do something? Maybe open up a small safe haven were bunnies can have just the one or two intimate moments in their continually frustrated lives?”

Was that a nod he saw? Did he even care?

“And wouldn’t you hail whoever did this as a hero who could do no wrong? Who may have been bending the law, an evil and wrong law forced on you by mammals who hate you, but wasn’t actually breaking it? And, if someone were to poison his patrons with some kind of reverse chill pill, sending them into some kind of rutting frenzy, would you then seek to charge and imprison him?”

They were silent.

“You wouldn’t, would you?”

Nick smiled and stood up, turning back to the watching crowd. “And, were this a city an actual Zootopia, then you’d accept it. You’d accept him, or me. You’d free us and join us in ending our suffering…”

“But,” he added, “it isn’t, and I don’t expect you to do this.”

“I expect my jury of my ‘peers’,” he said, giving a wave to the watching fourteen. “Ten of whom waved weapons made to specifically scratch their speciesist itch against my kind, and who spit on my people whenever they can and want, to find me guilty.”

He turned up to look at the kangaroo, and gave him a mock wave. “I expect my judge, who boasts on giving extra-long sentences to those mammals brought before him if they have sharp teeth, to send me away for years.”

He then turned to the crowd, and the watching cameras. “I expect the media, who love to pile plenty of displeasing adjectives onto anyone who happens to have a collar, to say it is a job well done. I expect the mayor, who likes us as a nice repository for all the bad parts of her policies, to sleep in bed at night without a care in the world, just happy that the little me shaped thorn in her side has gone…”

“But, I will not accept this!”

“I will drag myself out of the pit you want to throw me into by the stubs of my claws! However much you try to beat me down, I will try and drag myself up. You want to steal my life away, I will fight to the death to get it back. And you and your kangaroo court…?”

“I don’t accept it. “

He could hear his heart beat, as the judge just looked at him. “What do you mean, you won’t accept it?” he asked with a sneer.

“What do you mean I don’t accept it?” Nick replied, dusting his paws as he did so. “I’m glad you asked. I am being tried for the crime of resisting my collar. My jurors, have never experienced it. My judge, neither. My prosecutors and defence, the same old story… I will accept and play ball with a court of law if, and only if, it is one that’s actually interested in finding the truth and defending what’s right; not in implementing some law which is based on what some people once decided was right without bothering to check with those it hurt!”

Turning to face the fourteen mammals who would decide his future, he looked up and down at them before shaking his head. “I demand a jury of my peers! I have that right, do I not! In what world would you call any of these guys, one of whom looks like he wants to skin me right now, my peers?”

Turning back to the crowd, he grabbed his collar and held it tight for all to see. “My peers are those who know what it’s like to live a collared life. Who have lived with the burden, and the pain, and the scorn and contempt and the pressure of all your hatred! I demand to be tried by a court of those who know what I’ve been put though, in the only way that can be done! You have no right to judge me. You have no right to judge us. They are the only ones with the right to do so! Until then, every group of mammals you put me up against and use to slander me has no right to charge me, try me or find me guilty of anything!”

.

There was silence.

.

“I would say that I’d rest my case,” Nick said innocently. “But as I just explained, I don’t see the reason why I should even give you one! Thank you.”

.

And then the crowd, the jury, the judge, the prosecutor and everyone, bar Nick and his facepalming defender, erupted in roars. Nick just smiled, a giant grin on his muzzle and a newly orange light around his neck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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‘You have no right to judge us’.

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Suffice to say it was the new ‘down with this sort of thing’.

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

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Careful now.

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You act like I don’t know. Don’t you remember that we were printing T-shirts the day afterwards with that on it?

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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You remember that you mailed me one?

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

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Oh….

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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Don’t worry Grima.

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It’s not as if I wear it or anything.

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

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Why not?

Please don’t tell me I got your size wrong again.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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No. It’s not like the kitmas jumper incident.

Don’t worry about that either. In any case, I lost one of my gloves once, so it found a new role as a substitute. No harm done.

I don’t really wear the ‘you have no right’ shirt much, because I don’t really think I’ve earned the right. Here in Zootopia, for all intents and purposes, I am a prey mammal.

I eat bamboo, or related foodstuffs.

I’ve never even held a collar.

I’ve never been spat on at the street or called names, unless it’s been for something I actively chose to do. I think that, if I’m out protesting and petitioning, mammals do have a right to judge me. In any case, if I refuse them the right to judge me, how can I claim to be able to judge them back?

The ones that people have no right to judge are the preds, who are made second class citizens the day they are born. It’s their slogan, not ours, and though I walk among my meat eating cousins I feel that it’s just wrong to wear something that I think they fully own.

It just feels wrong.

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Also, I don’t want to become one of those stupid prey punks (pro or anti collar) that wander around with piercings, dyes and nose furniture, wearing the shirt because it’s ‘cool’.

Do I?

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

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Are you calling me a snot nosed punk?

 ; )

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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No. Of course not. You god damned earned the right to wear that shirt, remember? Unlike me, and don’t you forget it. You will never be a snot nosed punk, and never say that.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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Grima, I’m sorry. I pressed send and then realised what I’d written.

I’m sorry.

Are you okay?

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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Grima?

I really am sorry.

Please reply back.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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Grima. Please tell me you’re safe.

Please tell me that I’m a dumb spot-faced idiot who just drank too much Ulanzi.

Please tell me that I didn’t trigger you or anything.

I’m so worried that I opened up that wound again.

Please tell me.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

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Grima.

I can’t tell you that I ever went through what you did. I can’t tell you that I was hurt as bad as you were, or mistreated, or subjected to so much hate.

But, I know what it’s like to fear for your life.

It’s why I really don’t wear that shirt. I am a coward for not telling you.

Because I still don’t want to think of it.

I still don’t want to remember that night, when we planned to take a stand. When I gathered my research, and we chose to hijack that self-congratulatory preyfest and tell those whose conscience it was meant to sully that they were in the wrong. I remember being so excited at receiving the invite from one of her tigers herself. I spent so long planning my speech, and dreaming about how this would change things. How it might sway the jury’s verdict when it was given the day after, or rally the mayor into giving him his pardon.

Fancy, silly, crazy little dreams.

But I thought the world was changing then, and I was so happy to be part of it.

She was so beautiful that night, Grima.

She truly was an angel in horns.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima?

Please…

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* * *

 

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Hundreds of mammals were moving about. Pigs and squirrels and hippos, shuffling into costumes of various designs, were approaching well-rehearsed rallying points, each one trembling with the excitement and fear of doing this all for real. Massive buffalo bulls, stripped down to just their rough cut and worn shorts, stretched their arms and showed off their muscles to one another, in between practicing their drum beating with their huge drum sticks. Makeup artists were replying the rough dyes to their skin, tribal markings in the shape of stripes and chevrons adorning their bodies, highlighting their strength and prowess. A crowd of various mammals, predator and prey both, walked past, checking the flares and lasers they carried for their own performance. Beavers were everywhere, and all were carrying scaffolding and wires on their shoulders, bar one particular individual. The buck marched along with an angry stamp in every stride he took. Grumbling, he pulled up his clipboard and took another bite out of it, chewing the pulp as he tried to work out his anger. The taste of the glues and plastics used to hold the wood together were foul enough to make him gag, but he didn’t. He needed something to chew, given what his star client was planning to do. Turning a corner, he laid his eyes on her. Turning to spit the disgusting pulp into a bin, he made sure the sound was loud enough to raise her ears slightly.

The harrumph he gave after, along with the thudding of his tail beating against the concrete floor, did the rest of the job.

“Hola señor Gerente,” she replied with a smile, blowing him a mock kiss while giving a quick wink.

Looking back up at her, the beaver gave her a cold dead stare, the only sound he made coming from the ever-increasing beat of his tail on the floor. Shaking her head slightly, she stood up and walked over to him, gently placing a hoof down on his shoulder.

“Como estás señor Castor?” she asked, smiling at the end. The beaver grabbed her arm and threw it down hard, though she didn’t seem surprised.

“Gazelle,” he growled. “If you are thinking of doing what I think you are thinking of doing, then you will need a new manager! Do you understand?”

“And what do you think I am thinking of doing?” she asked playfully, standing up and walking away as she did so. The beaver, Mr Castor, grumbled and followed right behind her.

“I think, that you think, that you can be this big stupid hero!” he shouted. “Who thinks that she can say a few magic words, and suddenly every pred in the city won’t need a collar.”

“Then you are wrong,” she immediately replied. She stopped walking having reached the wooden door of a dressing room, which she opened and stepped into. Turning around and sticking her head out of the gap as she closed to door, she gave him a big smile. “I think that every pred in the world doesn’t, and never has, needed a collar!”

She ducked back into the dressing room, closing the door fast. His eyes widening, her manager leapt forward, stopping the door with his body. It closed in on him, wedging him against the frame. Cursing and groaning, he wiggled as he tried to get himself loose, as Gazelle quickly opened the door again. Unstuck, he slid through the doorway and jumped into the dressing room, turning on the spot as he pointed a clawed finger at Gazelle.

“This is not a stupid little game, you know?” he shouted, as Gazelle closed the door and turned to face him.

“I know,” she sternly replied. “And I hate that you think I think like that.”

“Then what do you think, huh?” he asked. “That saying all these crazy things and doing all these stupid pro-pred gestures will get you anywhere? I, and the rest of this city, has put up with your anti-collar rhetoric for a long time Gazelle. We really have. It was cute when you started, of course. When you chose those four tigers instead of some buffalo or something to act as your backup dancers. It made you unique, even if it was a bit weird. Maybe it was to help you get the pred market, though why anyone would want that I don’t know? But, you are now mainstream! And this predo act you put on, and this even stupider gimmick about being ‘anti-collar’, is just turning people off of you! Don’t you get that?”

Gazelle looked at him silently for a few seconds, her wide eyes boring down on him like they were studying a freak. She blinked, then walked over to a small drinks fridge in one corner, retrieving a green smoothie for herself. She lifted up the plastic cup and began chugging it down, taking a dozen or so deep gulps before slamming it back down onto the table. Wiping her lips with a hoof, she spoke.

“I am not a predo,” she slowly said. “And you will never call me that.”

“Well stop making like you want to rut with those tigers then!” the beaver shouted, only to receive a face full of green smoothie in response.

“Señor Castor, do not swear around children!” she hissed, as the beaver looked behind him to see a little horse girl in a white dress sitting on a chair.

“Miss Gazelle,” she asked slowly, a tinge of fear in her voice. “Who is this beaver?”

“He is my manager, mi hermoso pequeño caballo,” the singer explained, as she sat down next to the little girl and held her hoof. “And he needs to know that he can’t call people horrible things, just because of who they love.”

The little girl nodded, before looking back up at Gazelle. “What does predo mean?” she asked.

“It’s a very rude word,” the singer explained. “It’s short for predophile.”

“You mean the people who hurt little children!?”

“No, pequeño niña. That is a paedophile. But predophile, and preydophile, are words made to sound just like that, to make what they mean seem wrong. To hurt and make the people who are called it think they are doing something wrong.”

“What are they doing?” the girl asked. Gazelle opened her mouth to speak, only to be interrupted.

“Predo’s are dumb prey who think they ‘love’ a predator,” the beaver began, as he fumbled for and found a napkin, quickly bringing it up to his smoothie covered face. “Preyo’s are even worse. They’re savage preds who say they love a prey mammal. But we all know that they just want to get close enough to chomp them, don’t we?”

 “Señor Castor, leave us alone!” Gazelle ordered.

“Why should I?”

“Because I want you to,” she said, “and I’m pretty sure señorita Holly does too.”

The little horse nodded in response. “He’s mean, and he shouts a lot. I don’t like that.”

The beaver, having finished wiping the remains of the drink off his face, looked at Gazelle, his nose and whiskers twitching in fury. “I am the best manager in Zootopia. Anyone who is lucky enough to have my paws working on their career is guaranteed to become a star. I made you Gazelle. I organised your concerts, and I cleaned up the messes you so loved to create. There are so many other, easier, clients who I could work for. You know that?”

“Yes.”

“Ones who don’t go around, making ninety percent of their potential fans feeling uneasy. Or trying to guilt them for the crime of keeping safe. Who don’t go around, pretending to be… what even is the acceptable word for a pred loving freak in your opinion?”

“Someone who loves another mammal, who just so happens to be a predator,” Gazelle innocently suggested. “For instance. I am someone who loves another mammal, who just so happens to be a predator.”

“Oh no you don’t,” the beaver replied. “And from now on, you’ll act like it. From now on, you’ll drop this anti-collar mumbo jumbo. You understand?”

“No,” Gazelle replied with a shrug. “As I am pretty certain that I love my four tigre lovers, very, very much. If you were such a good manager, maybe you would be able to see that instead of hiding behind your wall of denial?”

Castor groaned, before turning to leave, mumbling under his breath. “Stupid-ungrateful-pop-diva-chomper-rutting…”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY!”

Flinching down from the shout, the beaver turned to look at a furious Gazelle marching over. Planting her feet so that the edges of her hoofs met the tips of his claws, she towered over him, looking down like god over the judged.

“Sorry,” he shrugged. “Cussing… children, I…”

“No,” Gazelle interrupted. “Before that.”

“…I don’t…”

“You said the C-word, yes?”

“You mean chomper, well...”

“GET OUT!” she shouted, pointing her arm at the door. “You are fired Castor!”

He looked back dumbstruck, shaking his head. “You can’t do that! Do you know who I am?”

“Someone who insults my four hermanos de la canción! I will stand for you insulting me, but not my four tigres! You are fired! Get out, before I build a wall to keep you out!”

Castor shook his head, snapping back into reality, before turning and marching out. “If that’s what you want you sick predo, then fine! Have it your way. It isn’t my career at stake. You’ll be paying for that. That and your wall…”

“Roger Porkers owes me a favour,” Gazelle replied with a shrug. “He’s good with walls.”

“And I’m as good as gone,” her ex-manager replied, slamming the door behind him as he left.

.

“Miss Gazelle…?”

The soft scared whine of the little girl sent Gazelle’s ears shooting up alert, and she turned to face her. Rushing over, she sat down next to her and placed an arm around her shoulder, bringing her in for a comforting hug. “Don’t worry pequeño caballo,” she whispered. “He is gone.”

The little filly relaxed somewhat and smiled. “You said that you love your tigers, yes?”

“Yes,” Gazelle said with a smile.

“Like a mommy horse loves a daddy horse?” she asked, her voice somewhat curious.

“Yes. And I believe they, and every other predator out there, should be as free to love and be happy as we are.”

The girl blinked, before looking down into a scrap of paper in her hand. “But the schools said that pred and prey are equal. I went to the museum and they showed us the tame collars, saying that they were made to let pred and prey be together and equal.”

Gazelle sighed and leant in. Taking a brush from a stand, she gently began combing the girl’s mane and fur. “My… my tigers. I see that every day their collars hurt them. I know they don’t need to be reminded to be nice. But their collars hurt them whenever they feel anything too much. You know how excited you are now?”

“Yes?”

“Well, collars can’t tell between that or anger or any other emotion. If you had a collar on, it would be hurting you now, as you’re so excited. My tigers have to make themselves less excited, and less happy, so often. Just to not get hurt. And I think that’s wrong.”

“But the school and museum say that predators need collars. Just in case. They did used to eat us!”

“Maybe the museums are wrong?”

“And the schools too?”

“And the schools,” Gazelle replied. “You know, hamsters and sloths used to eat their own babies?”

The filly’s eyes widened at the remark, and her face winced in disgust. “Eeeeeeewwwww!”

Gazelle smiled, holding back a laugh. “Muchos Eeeewww! But they don’t wear collars just in case, do they?”

“No,” the girl replied.

“And have you ever heard of them doing that?”

“No.”

“Do you know any hamsters or sloths?”

“Nu-hu…”

“Or what about predators?”

“Not really no.”

Gazelle paused, wondering where to go next. That answer came in the form of a knock on the door.

“Ah, Mi Amigo’s!” Gazelle shouted. She leant down to the girl and whispered into her ear. “Today, you are going to get to meet my four favourite tigers in the whole world. And I hope you get to learn that they are nothing more than big, adorable, orange yellow and black balls of fluff.”

As the little girl giggled, Gazelle walked over and opened the door and five figures walked in. “This is Raja, this is Aleksis, this is Sangha and this is Yuri,” she said, introducing the four. She then turned, and laid her eyes on the fifth member of the group. A short and chubby panda bear with a wide and happy grin on her double bespectacled face. She wore a brand-new shirt, with a slogan written on it, and held a brown satchel in one paw which was brimming with notes and a laptop. Gazelle’s eyes went wide as she saw her, and she stepped forward to take the startled bear into a big hug. “You must be Qianru Bao-Hu!” she exclaimed. “I’ve followed your work so much. It is so good!”

“Yes-uh” she replied, stuttering slightly. Her face was almost red, contrasting sharply with her thick green tortoiseshell glasses, while her whole body trembled with excitement. But it didn’t change the fact that she had a huge smile on her face. “I love your work too…”

“Ah shuck’s,” Gazelle replied, letting go of her. “Anything I can get you?”

“No,” the panda replied. “Just, -please don’t called me Qianru… -Or Bao Hu! I don’t like either of those names…”

“Oh, what do you like?” Gazelle asked.

“Melony,” she replied. “I like Melony.”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Sorry for being away for so long.

Remind me to never offer to help move a washing machine ever again. My foot is going to be in a cast for the next month and I’m too tired to read anything. I’ll catch up tomorrow. Night.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima.

I hope you get better soon and have the sweetest, sweetest dreams…

More love than I can ever give.

Melony.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

.

Over the next hour, the mammals in attendance practiced and rehearsed, getting ready for the big event. Make-up artist came in and, together, Gazelle and the little girl were prepared. She giggled and laughed as they worked, platting her mane and cleaning her fur. Gazelle herself looked on and smiled as she applied her own facial makeup. Red lipstick and ink black mascara came on first, then a gentle use of various glitters, different colours placed into different grooves of her horns, creating multiple rainbow strands that spun in together to two points, one on each tip. The flat surfaces of the horns were met with no less love either, being polished and varnished once more to the point that mammals could see their reflection in them. A pair of squirrels were out, giving her foot and hand hooves the same treatment, making them shine too.

“Even before this day, you were important Melony,” she said, caching the panda in the corner off guard. Coughing into her vanilla and mint bubble tea slightly, she settled it down as Gazelle continued. “Your writings on the prejudice affecting those in love with predators or, in your case…”

“Technically Gregory is a predator,” Melony replied. “In so far as he eats insects. But he’s of the order Pilosa and is mostly related to sloths.”

“But, some regions…” Gazelle replied, only to be cut off.

“Are even stupider than the rest,” the panda cut in. “It’s a difficult subject, that I don’t like to talk about. The whole thing is stupid and, ideally, I don’t want to even think about it. But I feel I have to. I’m a member of the one species of the order Carnivora that isn’t burdened with the collar. There are others with diets no different to his, but who are treated as if they once devoured elephants. Of course, diet is a moot point, given that all of them have evolved.”

“Yes,” Gazelle added. “I find it such a shame that so many prey mammals didn’t too.”

Melony giggled slightly, aborting her new attempt to drink her tea and instead just shaking her head. “My parents especially.”

There was a soft grunt from one of the makeup artists as Gazelle stood up, wandering over to the panda and sitting down next to her. Much to her surprise, she felt a hoof on her paw and an arm around her shoulder. “It is tough,” Gazelle slowly said. “When those who… -who gave you nothing but love up until then. They flip that love into hate, all because you love someone different. Someone they think was wrong.”

“Do you know why I use my birth name for my publishing?” Melony asked, looking up at the diva.

“No.”

“Because I like to think it annoys them to no end, having their surname and the name they gave me on all this stuff they can’t stand.”

Gazelle burst into laughter, rocking from side to side and moving Melony with her. “I… I never thought of it like that!”

“Well,” she blushed. “If you’re a stain on the ‘family honour’, better be a giant one. Is the phrase, shoot the moon?”

“Yes,” Gazelle replied. “Though now I think it will be, ‘doing a Wilde’”

“Indeed,” Melony slowly replied.

“I did a Wilde when I chose to pursue my music, my love, my beliefs and when I threw my old name out and created a new one. And let us do a Wilde tonight!”

“Let us.”

.

More minutes passed, and the performers all finished getting into costume. The little girl was fully dressed up, while Gazelle wore a resplendent dress that caught every light, glittering and shimmering like the milky way. A blacksmith came in and, though not there to re-shoe the little Filly, he ground down and polished her shoes until they shone like they were silver. The sounds outside were changing too, as a heavy pressure of anticipation settled down on all those around. Eyes kept on checking clocks, counting down to the hour in which they would be called. Stretches and quick practices were done in small corners and dead-end corridors. Talk continued and both confidence and worry set in.

“You’ll be fine,” Gazelle said, talking slowly to the girl.

“But… what if my speech is wrong,” she glumly muttered. “It says the collars are good, but I don’t think they’re good anymore. What if people decide they don’t want the collars, but they think I do? What if they think I’m a bad person.”

“They won’t know that it was you making the speech unless you want them to know,” Gazelle replied. “No one will hold a grudge against what you, a little girl, read off a script.”

“But it makes the collars sound nice.”

“Do you think they are nice?”

Looking up, the girl spotted one of the tigers who she’d been talking to earlier. She’d petted his tail, and even asked to look at his teeth and feel his collar. In return, he’d danced for her and been nothing but kind. She looked at the collar around his neck, then at the script in her hooves.

“No.”

“In that case then,” Gazelle replied. “Maybe we can change the script?”

The filly’s eyes went wide at the statement. “But I can’t! I spent so long learning it, and I still might mess up, and…”

“Sometimes, it’s just a few little words you can add, change or take away,” Gazelle interrupted, taking the script from her. “And they can change everything.”

“Really?” she asked.

“Really,” Gazelle replied. “For instance, here it says that prey feared predators and predators hurt prey.”

“Which is wrong,” Melony added, “given that many civilizations, the Alambic’s and Berbary’s, for instance, were a strong mix between the two.”

“So, change it to, ‘trying to prove themselves to’, instead,” Gazelle suggested, taking a pencil and changing the script slightly. “And here, remove the selfless; add ‘say we’ve’; change this ‘their’ to ‘the’ and add a ‘we’re convinced they have’.”

Taking the script back, the Filly cleared her throat before speaking. “For hundreds of years, predator and prey lived apart, with prey fearing predators and predators trying to prove themselves to prey. But, through the research and skill of numerous dedicated prey scientists, the fruits of technology and science have allowed us to say we’ve held back the nasty savage urges we’re convinced they have, and given us the chance to know them and to trust them and for them to be part of our civilization.”

“Very good!” Gazelle said, clapping as she did so. “Do you want to speak this version up on stage?”

“Will I get in trouble?”

“If anyone wants to punish you, I’ll tell them it was all my idea,” Gazelle said. The little filly nodded and smiled back. “Now, little one, you better go and practice that.” The girl nodded and trotted off, leaving Gazelle’s side. The diva looked forwards into her mirror, checking her earrings, before spotting the slightly judgemental gaze fixed on her. “Melony?” she asked, turning around.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” the panda replied, shaking her head.

“I can tell it is not, señorita Bao-Hu,” Gazelle said sternly, causing her to turn away and blush.

“It’s… I don’t like using children like that. Using them for quick points or pictures, when they do not have time to fully work out their own thoughts. I feel like you are hijacking them, for your own goal.”

“Our own goal,” Gazelle corrected. “And she was already being used by the other side. I gave her the choice to come over, and she chose it.”

“I know,” Melony replied. “It’s just I rather she not be here at all. We may be ‘doing a Wilde’ tonight, but there is still a risk.”

Gazelle looked up, then shied away, stepping back to her chair. The volume in the entire room fell as the tigers, who’d been chatting among themselves, seemed to relegate their talking to hushed whispers. “You do not think we do not know that?” she mumbled.

“I know,” Melony replied. “And even though we know the truth about it, it’s… it’s…”

“To have him hijack one of my tigre’s and turn him into a weapon is my worst nightmare,” Gazelle said slowly. “But we have plans, and we are prepared. Counter snipers with fast acting tranq’s. The stage can rapidly retract back down if someone is hit. I have a panic button which, if used, can shine all lights around the stadium, dazzling them and putting us into darkness. We have smoke grenade systems to hide us from view, and I have… this!”

Melony gasped as Gazelle pulled out a six-shooter loaded with tranquiliser darts. “It is reported that the turning takes a few seconds. A little naughty secret, but even now I am an innocent tin cans worst nightmare!”

“It’s… it’s good to know,” Melony replied, as all mammals were shaken by a knock on the door.

“Fifteen minutes before the opening,” someone called in. Gazelle stood up, looking around at her new and old friends, and waved them on forwards.

“Come on hermanos y hermanas, let’s change history!” The others saw her wave and stood up, and together they walked out. Pride in their step, joy in their heart, they all went out for Gazelle’s greatest performance.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The comets had come, and formed the earth’s lifeless mass. Volcanoes and the power of its internal furnaces had carved and cracked the land, forming the mountains and the plains and the oceans. Water had come, and with-it life. The great divide of the mammals, scorned on by a young girl who was less than ten. A whole crowd had been ready to listen to the songs they’d come for, instead receiving a cry against the injustices they supported.

Back in the general population of a ZPD jail, Nicholas Wilde’s collar went orange when, rather than the first song, Gazelle had opened with his name. She called his name out and thanked him, for making it safe for her. For helping to uncover the monsters going around and tainting the lives of predators, and who threatened to turn her best friends into mindless beasts even as she spoke. She called him a hero, someone who she regretted not being able to visit when he was a free mammal. Someone who she said should be pardoned, and be considered a role model for chasing what was right, no matter what. She slammed those who called preds savages and less evolved, and said that they were the true holders of those titles. She said that the lies needed to support the collars were just that and that, after they got him released, they’d be going for them too. It was when she started to talk about a friend, who had evidence to prove the collars weren’t needed, that the trigger was pulled.

Hearing the shot, and seeing the tiger flinch and grunt, was enough to shock the watching fox, who knew first-hand the horror of what was about to happen. Down, writhing on all fours, the victim was suddenly covered in a thick fog, as were the others. Spotlights around the entire stadium started going crazy, the screen strobing in and out of vision as it was passed over by the casted light. The raised stage on which she was performing began lowering rapidly, while the cries from gazelle and her crew rang out, their microphones still working.

“He’s tranq’d, Yuri! Hold tight and…”

She screamed as a second shot pierced the night. Nick heard curses, followed by shouting and animalistic cries that sent shivers down his spine. He thought he heard the sound of a collar going off and a tiger screaming, right before the sound was cut.

A few seconds later, a figure on all fours charged out. Bucking and kicking in the air, it leapt out into the void. Flying well past the skirt of fabric that draped down from the still falling stage, it fell like a rock and landed on the stadium floor, broken and ruined.

.

In the depths of the stadium, Melony held a little filly tight as they listened to the screams above. The elevator she was about to go up on came down, three shell shocked tigers stumbling out.

A fourth was lying on the floor, a tranquiliser dart sticking out of his neck.

The others joined them there, sent by the spasms of pain around their necks as they screamed in despair.

The quartet were alone.

No one else had come down with them.

.

.

In just a few minutes, the concert had gone from an event of joy to a disaster. Even outside the stadium, Judy Hopps, who was pulling up there in her car, could hear the scream of the crowd. She got out of her cruiser and looked up at the looming mass of the stadium, the shining lights still on and bright, a far cry from the new mood.

_“Officer Hopps…”_

“Officer Hopps, 10-4” Judy replied into her radio. There was a soft mumble from the other side, before a panicked voice rang through

“Hopps, this is McHorn. Where are you?”

“Outside the stadium sir, shall I…”

“Stay outside!” he barked back. “It’s chaos in here, everyone’s stampeding out and… and… oh shit…”

“What is it McHorn?”

“I just heard another shot… And another! He’s… he’s firing into the crowd Judy! I think… oh no.”

“Do we have savage predators?” Judy asked.

…

“Mchorn? Do we have…”

“Yes,” he shouted back. Judy could hear him panting and barking out orders to others. The panicked shrieks of the crowd were spilling out of the stadium, but piercing screams and roars were beginning to ring out too. Judy’s ears lifted, picking them up. She gulped, not knowing what to do.

“Mchorn. Do you need assistance, over?” she shouted into her microphone.

The sound of a gas rifle went off and she jumped back, grabbing her tranquiliser gun in one paw and holding up her radio once more.

“Mchorn? What is your…”

“10-33!” he cried back. “But… hello?”

“Mchorn, this is Hopps. Do you need assistance, over?”

“Negative Hopps,” he said. “We’ve got some high powered tranq rifles, and I think we subdued those predators turned savage.”

“Shall I wait here?” Judy asked. The radio cut out, with a small stream of static. Looking over to the base of the stadium, she watched as a crowd of larger mammals began charging out. Running chaotically, they trampled over both paths and gardens as they spread themselves out, fleeing for their vehicles.

“What is the situation Hopps?”

“Large crowds exiting,” she replied. “Don’t think it’s a full stampede yet, and it’s not like I could stop it. They’re going for their vehicles and…”

“Does you have a cruiser with lights Hopps?”

“10-4”

“Get down to the south stand immediately,” McHorn ordered. “We need you to get Gazelle and her ambulance out of there, immediately…”

Judy froze, her paw trembling as she held onto the radio. “How bad is Gazelle. How much damage did they make her tigers…”

“It wasn’t a tiger Hopps! Gazelle was hit!” Mchorn shouted, “I… Crap, we’ve got reports of predators being hit on the eastern exit! Get to the south now and get her out, understand!”

“10-4,” Judy replied, before running off and leaping into her cruiser. Key in, engine on, her lights and sirens lighting up. She put her foot down and raced forwards. Weaving in and out, past mammals that came charging through the lane as they made their way to their own vehicles. Her acceleration picking up, she began sliding as the crowds got worse. A running giraffe was coming up, and Judy turned towards the stadium, weaving through his legs while slamming her horn, desperate to clear the way.

Past the worst of the crowds and into an area between the exits, Judy put her foot down and began racing forwards. She clicked on her radio, tuning it to dispatch.

“Dispatch, this is Hopps…”

“Dispatch, over…”

“Can you feed me in to the medical dispatch. I’m supposed to escort Gazelle out of here.”

“Affirmative Hopps. Hold on a second…”

Her radio fizzled slightly, before coming in clear again. “This is dispatch, over. We need all nearby units to attend…”

“Officer Hopps, ZPD”, Judy interrupted. “I’m coming down from the western stand of the stadium to the southern in order to escort Gazelle out of here, over.”

“I… Okay, all units… who is attending to Gazelle, I’ve got a police escort and I… Affirmative. Hopps, are you near an orange clad lift shaft, over?”

“Hang on,” Judy replied, before looking over to her left. Right by her, climbing up the side of the stadium, stood a tower, linked to it by gangways and clad in orange.

“Affirmative,” Judy replied. “Turning to get there now.”

“They’re bringing her out on the south side, over. Good luck.”

“10-4,” Judy replied, as she spun her cars wheel and hauled back the handbrake. The car’s tires squealed as they kicked up curling waves of smoke, and the bunny in the driver’s seat felt herself being thrown to the side. Emerging onto a straight access road leading right to the tower, releasing the handbrake as she did so, she hit down her accelerator hard and charged down it in seconds. She could already see the flashing blue lights of two ambulances, as well as a pair of gurneys being loaded into the back. In one was a tiger, muzzled and strapped down, despite being tranquilised. In the other, she spotted a much more slender figure being loaded in. As she slammed on her breaks and slid to a halt, she just about saw the figure of Gazelle, strapped down just like the tiger, being loaded in. Outside were three figures, two tigers and a panda. They were arguing with the ambulance crew. Judy reached over to her door, and jumped out.

“Please! Let me go with her, I…”

“Family only,” one of the paramedics shot back, before turning to face Judy. “Officer. Can you escort this savage away…”

“Don’t call him that!” the panda shouted, stepping forward and pushing at the medic. “If you hadn’t of collared him, he could have restrained her! He’s family, he’s…”

“Not family,” the paramedic shot back, as he slammed the doors shut.

“I am,” the tiger growled back, his collar orange. “We are like family. Please, I need to…”

“WHAT!? Be there to maul her, I…”

“You speciesist piece of filth,” the panda spat. “How dare you…”

“SHUT IT, ALL OF YOU!” Judy shouted. She looked at the tigers, the panda and the emergency crew. She looked at the ambulance, and her car. “I’ll be escorting you to the hospital,” she explained. “I have three spaces in the back of my vehicle you lot can ride in. You can meet her there, after giving the crew more space to heal her. Understood?”

The tiger paused for a second, before nodding. “That will do, yes.”

“Right,” Judy announced. “All in, right now. Let’s move it!”

She turned and raced back to her cruiser. Jumping in and buckling up, she felt it shift as the three larger mammals climbed into the back. Doors shutting closed, she turned the engine on and flicked her lights and sirens to the brightest and loudest settings. A flick on her radio, and she called out.

“Are you ready to depart, over.”

“10-4, over.”

She pushed down on the accelerator, and they drove forwards. Constantly checking her mirror to make sure the ambulance was just behind her, she began hitting her horn as they approached a wandering crowd. More mammals who’d been emerging, running and jogging as they tried to find their way back to their vehicles. Most were clearing, but Judy still had to weave tightly around some.

Further and further out, and cars were beginning to appear. Spitting out of the side lanes, they were slowly making their way forwards towards the exit. Judy scowled, and hit her horn even louder. Up ahead, they began shifting towards the kerb, but not all the way. Yet more vehicles were emerging from the connecting streets, along with more wandering mammals.

“Officer Hopps, we’ll need to hurry over. We don’t have enough blood to keep up with her losses.”

“Understood,” Judy replied, before swinging out onto the wrong side of the road. It was empty of vehicles and as she picked up speed it began emptying of mammals too. She hit down on her accelerator, and then her break when needed, ducking and weaving and brushing half a dozen mammals who’d wandered into the road. Up ahead lay the entrance, a swing beam on either side. She breathed a sigh of relief as an elephant lumbered over and grabbed the one on her side, lifting it up and giving them an easy way out. She raced past him, giving him a quick salute, while the ambulances followed in hot pursuit.

Out of the parking lot and out of the traffic she unleashed her engine, going full throttle. A few glances at her speedometer suggested she was going twice the limit. She didn’t care. She knew that she was in control, and she knew that she had to make sure they got to the nearest hospital as soon as possible.

A sign flicked past, a red cross on it.

.

“Are we taking the next exit?” Judy called over the radio.

“Yes,” came the reply. “Not our hospital, but I don’t think they’ll mind. Over.”

“Over and out,” Judy replied, quickly flicking her wheel to the side. The cars wheels squealed as she turned them up the slip road, before racing through a set of green lights and carrying on their way.

.

“How is she?”

Judy glanced up into the mirror, and spotted one of the tigers speaking. His face was badly bruised, one of his eyes black, while his face was washed in red, seeping out from cuts below his fur.

“How is she doing?” he asked again, sniffing slightly.

Judy reached down to her radio, and flicked it on. “How is Gazelle doing?” she asked, before pausing as static played back.

.

“Not good,” came the reply. “Blood loss, increasing. She’s convulsing, we think from the drug… We can’t operate on her and… we don’t want to put any more tranq’s in her system until we can check the levels in her.”

“But she’s going to be okay?” the tiger asked, only to flinch down as his collar shocked him.

“I can’t say…” the radio replied, before shutting off.

Judy turned back to face the road, making sure that the cars up in front were clearing a path to let them through. Rising over the crest of a hill, she thought she saw a hospital up ahead and breathed a sigh of relief. “Not long now…” she announced. “We’re almost there.”

The occupants were silent, before one of them began sobbing. Judy, looking up into her mirror, spotted the injured tiger crying into his paws, before his collar turned red. She winced down as the shock hit him, shifting through the car. Quickly correcting it with her steering, she carried on. Another loud cry, and another shock. The car shook again, and Judy turned back to face him.

“Why’s his collar shocking him?” she asked. “He’s crying, but…”

“Yeh, he is crying,” the panda shouted back, before turning to hold the tiger.

He carried on sobbing and shaking with the shocks, and Judy, despite trying to keep her focus on the road, couldn’t help but hear what he was saying.

“I failed her,” he cried. “I could have held her, but my collar…”

“It’s not your fault,” the Panda said. “You said it yourself, your collar…”

“I wasn’t mature enough. I…”

“Don’t give me that. Not now…”

“It doesn’t matter… I… I…”

His blubbering became incomprehensible, and the shocks continued. Each one made Judy wince and, as they pulled up outside Zootopia central hospital, she sighed with relief. The ambulances raced out in front of her, and she watched the two gurneys’ being pulled out. Behind her, her occupants also exited, giving her quick thankyou’s. Driving forwards, clearing the way for the long line of arriving vehicles, Judy found a small parking spot and stopped. Sirens off, engine off, the sound of the tiger’s crying and shocks, as well as the panda’s words, still in her mind. They taunted her, nagging at what she knew was true. What must be true. What had to be true, yet…

She let her face fall into her paws and breathed in and out, crying slightly as she did so. Automatically, she flicked on her radio, and asked to be put back in contact with police dispatch.

“Dispatch over.”

“This is Hopps’. Gazelle is at the hospital, over. I am available…”

“We need you back at the stadium. We’re going to be sweeping that thing all night, over.”

“Affirmative,” Judy replied, turning the engine back on.

“Do you want tomorrow off?” the dispatcher asked. “You sound compromised…”

“I’m 10-4,” Judy replied. “Or at least as 10-4 as anyone will be after tonight.”

“We’re going to be short staffed as it is, so good to hear. I’ll try and get you onto something relevant and light for tomorrow then,” the dispatcher replied. “Good job, and keep yourself safe.”

“Affirmative,” Judy replied, as she turned out of the hospital grounds and began racing down the road.

“Well,” the dispatcher chuckled. “That’s what we do…”

“At the ZPD,” Judy interrupted, smiling slightly, as made her way back to the field of battle. “And thank you.”

The dispatcher went silent, and Judy silently prayed that Gazelle, and her tigers, would be safe.

But whatever she did, the sounds of the crying and the shocks and the panda’s words kept on replaying in her mind.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

An hour or two later, and far away in the rainforest district, three hidden mammals looked on horror struck.

“No…” the largest one, a fat cheetah, whispered. “No, no, no, no, no…” He sat on his bench, legs wrapped into his chest and enveloped by his arms, slowly rocking forward and back. “Please be okay… Please be okay… Please…”

His eyes were red, and the black tearstain fur marks that dripped from his eyes were glistening as real tears flowed down them.

Despite the work of the rattling ventilator fans, which were busy bringing in fresh air, the place stank. It stank of uncleaned mammals and poorly washed dishes. It stank of litter and rubbish, and the odour of a dirty toilet bowl that was hidden off in a corner. It stank of musk and hair oils, of grease and sweat. There were no showers here, and while the smallest and largest occupants had reverted to traditional washing techniques, the stench they’d avoided had only been replaced by a lingering scent of saliva. Even though their fur was clean, their clothes weren’t, as were those of the other occupant. Finnick had done run ups to the house above before, bringing down new clothes for the other two. But he was far too short to operate the washing machine, while Clawhauser and Honey were too nervous about going up there. So, clothing from the piles in their room were being brought back down again, unwashed.

It stank in there.

The latest stink being the acrid scent of singed fur.

Honey slowly patted and kissed the area under Clawhauser’s collar, making sure the shocker unit was far away from the area it had previously scorched.

“She’ll be good,” she reassured him. “She’ll be up, and singing, and doing all her campaigning stuff to get ol’ Slick outta the clink!”

Clawhauser turned to look at her and smiled. “Thanks Honeybun,” he whispered, leaning down to gently peck her on her nose. She retreated back sharply, her collar going up to orange. She stood stiff, trying to look down at it, before relaxing.

“I don’t want you makin’ this any worse than it already is,” she muttered at it, before turning back to her cheetah. Honey carefully climbed up onto his lap, wedging herself between his upper legs and his fat belly. Wiggling in, smiling as she did so, her head popped out above his knees and she smiled, reaching a paw up to mess with his cheek. Clawhauser gave a tiny smile, before resuming his glowering.

Finnick remained on the other side of the bunker, just watching them.

He was tired.

He was grouchy.

He was getting bored.

And he hated himself.

He remembered how he’d been running the nocturnal maze when the screams had begun. Looking over, he’d spotted Jorge charging about on all fours, smashing through anything that got in his way. Tearing and mauling, a savage in every sense of the word, his eyes had met Finnick’s for just a second.

And in that second, Finnick had run. He’d run away screaming. He’d spotted Clawhauser and Honey, barked at them to grab their collars and get into his van. They did as he did, and they’d raced away. Moving into the heart of Happytown, winding about, they’d turned back onto the motorway and began driving back towards the city. Only then, as they crossed the bay bridge and looked over at Wild Times, crawling with cops and with police helicopters circling overhead, had he realized that Nick might not have been okay. He might not have been safe.

When he tuned on the radio and heard the garbled cries of Nick, being mammalhandled out live, they’d almost crashed, Finnick letting it get to him and set his collar off.

They drove to a random spot in the rainforest and dumped the van where it would be safe. Sneaking and running, through the back alleys and the hidden stairs, they’d jumped through a back window of Honey’s place and dived into the bunker.

He’d hated himself them, beating himself up for failing his little Bro’. He’d screamed and shocked himself almost as badly as Clawhauser did just now, and did so again when he heard that Nick was in hospital after being attacked in the jail yard.

Staying put, they’d learned that Nick’s story, that of Jorge being darted by a rogue wolf, was pretty much true. They’d spotted the evidence go up of a conspiracy to dart predators, and evidence of a dart itself at wild times. Finnick had smiled and laughed, only to begin shouting again when it turned out Nick was going to be jailed anyway. He’d half shouted out in pride and half hit his head against the wall when Nick turned his opening court speech into a scathing attack on prey mammals. He’d certainly shocked himself good that day, that was one thing.

But, as he had time to think, Finnick began hating himself more and more. Hating himself for not being there. Hating himself for not having his bat at hand, to beat the wolf bloody. He wanted to drag the mutt by his tail and run him, head to toe, through a mangle. He wanted to make him die the longest, most painful death possible. He wanted to make him pay for what he did to his little Bro’, but he couldn’t.

He wanted to go back and rescue his little Bro’. He wanted him to be by him, the red fox making stupid jokes about his height and size. He wanted him to be goading him into making bets with humiliating forfeits, which he’d then have to act out. He wanted to be patted on the head in that demeaning way, or to see that irritating smug grin again.

But there was nothing he could do.

Nothing they could change.

And he loathed himself to the guts for it.

.

He looked up when he heard Clawhauser wail. It was a brutal one, long and painful, the jovial cheetah crying out in grief. Honey, her eyes widening, reached out from her perch to try and comfort him.

Finnick looked away as his friend’s collar went off, sending him falling to the ground. He lay there, jittering slightly in a mixture of cries and shocks, as Finnick’s eyes rested on the phone that had been thrown from his paw. He walked forward to pick it up, already knowing what he was going to be reading.

“They… they… they… ARGHHH!!!!” Clawhauser wailed and then screamed, his collar red lighting again. He broke down into sobs as Finnick picked up the mobile phone and rotated it around. Letting it drop back and rest itself against the back wall, he punched in the code and watched it light up.

The screen had been cracked in the fall, and the strange black and purple iridescent ink that all screens seemed to contain was leaking out. But underneath all that, Finnick could still see the ZNN headline. It had been covering the events of the concert, but when that all went to hell it had been following its star.

Or had been following.

The words were plain and brief, with medical jargon in there that, up until recently, he wouldn’t have understood. But it didn’t matter. The details, unlike with Nick, didn’t offer the chance of salvation or hope.

Gazelle was dead.

By the sound of it, she would be soon joined by one of her biggest fans.

Finnick turned back to look at his friend. He was shaking and screaming on the floor, the wailings of his grief intercut by his cries of pain and the sharp sting of his collar. For one terrible moment, the little fennec was just a kit again, looking across from his bed at the writhing and screaming figure that occupied his room’s new basket. But another shock, accompanied by an electric blue flash, shook those thoughts from his memory.

He walked forwards and, not knowing what else to do, put his paws around Clawhauser’s face.

“I’m sorry Ben,” he said.

“She’s dead,” he wailed, before flinching down from another shock.

“I know,” he replied slowly, rubbing his larger friends nose.

“That… that beast killed her.”

“And if I can, I’ll bite his face off. For once, and only once, I’ll literally bite his face off…”

“You… you mean it…?”

“One-hundred percent,” Finnick replied. “But I’ll bite his tail off first. Then his arms. Then his legs. I’ll gnaw that piece of scum, and any other pieces of scum that helped him, into stumps before I get to their faces!”

“What does it… it… matter?” Clawhauser screamed, before jiggling as another shock hit him. Finnick, sniffing in the air and picking up more of the scent of burned fur, reached up and pushed the big cats collar around some more. Beneath the strap, there were now two burn marks.

Another shock hit, and Finnick couldn’t help but fear that there would soon be three.

“She was an Angel…! An Angel… And… And…”

Finnick looked away, flinching as he heard another shock.

“And they killed her! They broke her wings… they…”

The fennec moved back towards his friend and held his head tight as he broke down into sobs. Sniffing and crying, the occasional light shock harrying him, Finnick stood by him. Alone at first, and then with another.

“Where were you?” he asked, albeit without any malice, as he spotted Honey by him. She’d leant over and wrapped her arms around Clawhauser’s head, stroking, petting and kissing it as he cried.

“Underneath,” she replied back curtly.

“Underneath?” Finnick asked, before remembering where she’d been and how Clawhauser had fallen. “Oh…”

“Oh yes,” she replied. “But that’s not our problem now! We gotta stop him crying!”

“Just do what you’re doin’ girl,” Finnick instructed.

“But it’s not working…”

“It takes time, and…”

“Time?” Honey butted in. “Time enough for him to fry himself something funny? We need to stop him crying…”

“And I’m telling you, we don’t have one!” Finnick shouted back, only to flinch as a light buzz shocked him.

“Of course you don’t,” Honey grunted. “When it was Slick, you just let him cry himself out, whether he’d fry himself or not…”

“And he needed that!” Finnick said, growling slightly. His right eye and ear twitched as his collar began to jitter on and off, but he continued. “You know you don’t get this stuff, so listen to me! Slick always needed to cry himself out! Ben, here, needs to cry himself out!”

“And he’ll kill himself!” Honey hissed.

“Slick was a kit, and he didn’t!” Finnick shot back. “And it’s not like Ben knew Gazelle personally, is it? He’ll get over it! Slick survived, so will he!”

Honey paused, looking back over at Clawhauser. Still lying on the floor, his collar was a permanent orange, and they both realized a shock hadn’t come in a while. He still blubbered and murmured, but the wails and screams and cries were in the past. Finnick continued petting him, as did Honey, and they did so in silence.

.

“Sorry…”

“For what?” Finnick asked, looking up to Honey as she looked down at him.

“For… getting mad and all at you,” she slowly replied, looking away as she did so. She turned back to face him when she felt a paw on her knee.

“Don’t worry Honeybun…” Finnick replied. “Maybe… maybe I deserve you to be mad and all at me.”

“Why?”

“Well,” Finnick shrugged. “It was my job to look after Slick, wasn’t it? And as we ran, maybe I could have made a little detour. Grabbed myself one of our collar keys. Man, I feel stupid now for not doing that.”

“I guess we were all a little stupid,” Honey sighed. “You hear that they tracked this wolf persons car back to a sheep’s apartment?”

“No,” Finnick said, before his ears lifted up slightly. “And knowing what’s coming next, I really hope that was a lie or something…”

“No,” Honey replied, beginning to grin. “ZNN and all that, they said it. A sheep apartment. He had a board proving he wanted to target Slick and all! I guess he switched to Jorge just to cause more chaos, but still! I was right! Somewhat… I’ve been tracking him down as much as I can, but I can’t get much though…”

“Yeh,” Finnick said. “Real productive use of our time that.”

.

“Not as if we have anything more pressing to do,” Honey mumbled back.

.

“We could plan to get ourselves outta here?” Finnick suggested. “Why else haven’t we just sawn off our collars yet?”

“Cause we’ll have to go out eventually, even if it’s twenty years or so, to pick up new grub,” Honey replied back. “As for escaping… Nah...! Where would we go? Try and steal a ship and sail to Avaria?”

“Or try the embassy,” Finnick suggested.

“Too easy for them to turn us away,” Honey muttered.

“I wasn’t talking about the Avarian one,” Finnick said, catching Honey’s attention. “I heard the Reptoslavs have promised us sanctuary if we can get our tails there.”

.

“But we gotta get our tails all the way over there without the fuzz catching us” Honey said. “Your tail, is easy enough given you’re so small…”

“Thankyou…”

“But I’m bigger, and Benny boy… Well, he’s -uh…”

“Asleep?” Finnick asked, grinning slightly as he looked upon the snoring mass of fur in front of him.

“And fat,” Honey chimed in giggling. “Fat full of a lot of love and all, not that I’d want him any other way…”

“What about with fake spots drawn on,” Finnick joked, giggling slightly. “Where did you keep those permanent markers?”

“A long way from you, that’s for sure,” Honey giggled back. “Maybe some other time though… Not now. Not now… He needs to sleep.”

.

“I think we all need to. It’s been a long day,” Finnick replied.

“And tomorrow, we find out what happens to Slick and we have to plan what to do next!”

“Yeh…”

“Cause you never know,” Honey whispered. “You never know what those evil sheep are up to.”

“No, I don’t,” Finnick replied. “But it keeps you occupied trying to find out, and that’s a plus in my books.”

“For all we know, they could know where we all are. They could be coming to find us. They and their pet sheep-wolf… dog…” Honey said, trailing down into a whisper. “They could be right up there, at this very second,” she said, as if she were telling a ghost story. “In my house, ready to storm down here and finish the job…”

...

Finnick chuckled, ready to crack a joke, only to flinch down as a large bang shook the bunker. Both mammals’ collars went red, lightly shocking them. Honey, too scared to care, grabbed Finnick and dove behind Ben’s body, shaking it to wake him up.

“Wha…” he began to say, only for two dark purple paws to grab his face and twist it around.

“The herd’s found us!” Honey screamed, watching as Clawhauser scrambled into life.

“What do we do?” Finnick asked, looking up to Honey. Her collar orange, her mouth gritted, she looked over to her supplies and pointed. “Benjy, grab the motorized clippers of justice! Finnick, the paintball gun of righteousness! I’ll release the moths of liberty and grab the…”

She was cut off as a metallic shriek cried out through the air. There was a heavy bang as the bunker hatch was lifted up, and then silence.

The three below shuffled over to the weapons, grabbing those nearest them and bunching together. Their chests rose and fell in unison, while their collars were all orange in fear.

“Anyone down there?”

The jaws of all three fell to the floor as the female voice rang out around the bunker. Two sets of ears twitched around in confusion, but one pair honed in. A smile grew across its owner’s face, and she stepped forward.

“Marshmallow?” she shouted out

“Yeh,” came the reply. “But if you don’t come along soon, I’ll just be marsh. It’s now or never!”

“Madge!” Honey cried out, not caring about the light shock she was hit with.

“Finnick,” the voice continued, “your brother, Fenrick, is helping out too! He’s got a van running outside! We’re going to get you to the Reptoslav embassy in less than an hour. Move it!”

The three looked at each other and burst into action. Clawhauser, grabbing Finnick in his paw, charged up the ladder. Closely behind, after grabbing a precious laptop, several usb drives and a folder or two, was Honey. Climbing up, she approached the top of her ladder, and spotted a paw reach down to grab one of hers.

It pulled up as she pushed, and she burst out of the pipe and landed on the helping figure. She looked at her, near identical eyes set in near identical faces meeting, before lunging in to hug her. “SIS!” she cried, even though the light shock that hit her.

“I love you too Honey,” the other honey badger said back, struggling to hold in her tears. “But we’ve got to go, right now. We can catch up with stuff in the back of the van.”

“Let me just seal this up then,” Honey replied, turning back to the bunker and throwing the lid down. Making sure it was concealed, she felt a paw grab hers and lead her away. She turned back to its owner, and smiled. “Where you been, Madge?”

“Oh, trying to say that I’m living my dream,” she replied with a chuckle. “If I squint enough while I suture another shank wound, I can just about say I am…”

“Well, I know that…” Honey replied, as they jumped out of her door and straight into the back of a waiting van. She and her sister turned to grab it, pulling it tightly shut behind them.

“All in?” came a shout from the front as a fennec, a head taller than Finnick at least, looked in.

“Yeah,” Honey shouted. “Let’s run to the border!”

“The embassy,” Madge corrected, flinching back as Honey whimpered from a light shock.

The van shook, and all five occupants of the back slipped around as the floor beneath them accelerated. “Sure you got everyone,” the driver called back again. “Just…”

“Yeh, I’m pint sized!” Finnick shouted back.

“And don’t you forget it, baby brother,” Fenrick, his older brother, replied. “Now I’m gonna put on my music. It goes off, we got trouble. If you lot start singing, you’re converted, so bonus. Especially you Finnick! Always wanted to de-dishonour you…”

“Well you’ll be explaining your failure to all those vixens in the afterlife yet,” Finnick joked back, as the radio began to blare Alambic prayer music. The van shook and rolled as they carried on, while in the back to excitement began to subside.

“It’s no Gazelle,” Clawhauser said glumly. “That’s for sure…”

“You can’t understand it,” Finnick replied. “Lucky you…”

The two settled back a bit, tired after the days excitement. Meanwhile, Honey shuffled over slightly, nudging up against Madge, who’d placed her arm around her shoulder.

“I’m almost annoyed you didn’t get me in on all this,” she said, bopping Honey’s nose with one of her claws as she did so. “I was using collar keys long before you were, that’s for sure.”

“Yeah,” Honey replied. “But we didn’t want you to get caught up and given a Slick’s parents, do we?”

Madge blinked a few times, before looking away. “No…” she said softly. “No, we do not…”

“And given what you do and where you do it,” Honey carried on, “who knows what kind of things the sheep and Fuzz are listening in on.”

“Medical exam advise thankfully wasn’t one of those things,” Madge said softly.

“It certainly wasn’t,” Honey said with a laugh. “Thanks for all the help you gave with that.”

“And thanks for giving me that lifetime Wild Times membership,” the elder honey badger replied. “It was nice… while it lasted.”

“It was,” Honey said sadly, turning to look away. She was tired from the day’s excitement too, the edge of adrenaline that had kept her awake slowly draining away. Her eyes began drooping, only to jolt open again as she felt her sister snuggle up to her.

She turned to face her, and saw that she was beginning to cry. Her own collar orange, tears and sniffs coming from her nose, she grabbed Honey tight and didn’t let go. “I was so worried for you…” she said. “So worried that… that they would take you in and chew you into nothing. That they would break you and…”

She pulled away, her eyes glancing down towards her collar, before she sighed. “Please, don’t put yourself in danger again. Keep yourself safe Honey, and always know that I love you.”

“I love you too, Marshmallow,” Honey replied, tightly hugging her sister. Her sister hugged her back, and they kept on doing so, as the van weaved its way across the city, until they finally heard the music in the front quieten down.

“We’re here,” Fenrick announced.

The others stood up, and peered over his seat. Off in the distance lay a marble mansion. Separated from the street by a metal railing, several foreign flags flew above it. Finnick, having the better night vision, noticed that the large guards, guns in hand, were not mammals. They had no visible ears, and rather than true muzzles they had long oblong faces, with a variety of bumps and lumps at the front. Like Honey, to a lesser extent Madge, and species like aardwolves, they had a spiky spine. However, it wasn’t made of fur, rather literal spikes that ran all the way along their body, even down to the tips of their huge tails, which rested limply on the floor.

“Ex-Marine marine iguana’s,” Fenrick explained. “Apparently, it used to be crocodiles, but those were ‘too scary’. So, they changed it to those who ate seaweed. Seemed a wise choice.”

“Your brother Tarick…” Madge began, only to be interrupted.

“Tariq,” both Fenrick and Finnick corrected.

“Tariq says that he told them that you are coming. We’re going to pull right up next to them, you’ll get out and shout ‘I claim asylum’, and we’ll dump this van somewhere.” Madge explained. “I’ll make my own way back, as will Fenrick. We’ll even try and get some more of your stuff over. Got it?”

The others nodded, and the van rumbled as it began to move forwards once more.

“I’ll come visit you lot sometime,” Fenrick shouted. “Bringing more short jokes and all…”

“And I’ll be ready,” Finnick replied.

Madge looked over at her sister, gently stroking her head as they moved along. “I know what you’re going to ask,” she said slowly. “And if I can, I will, I promise. It’s the least I can do given what he’s done for you.”

“Thank you, Sis,” Honey whispered, as the music turned off.

“Get your tails moving, NOW!”

Clawhauser grabbed Finnick and ran, bursting out of the back door. “We claim asylum!” they both shouted, as the guards, rather than raising their weapons, saluted them.

Honey stood up and jumped out after them, her possession in her paws. She flinched as her collar shocked her, and waved goodbye. “I love you Sis!”

“I love you too,” Madge replied back, also feeling the light hit of her collar going off. As she watched Honey race over the threshold, she closed the doors and curled into a crying and whimpering ball as they drove away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In a recent release of scenes from the old draft, it was shown that Gazelle was anti-collar. I'd congratulate myself on getting that right, but the real credit goes to NicolasWilde. Unlike in ZTOP, the authorities knew about the savage conspiracy, and Gazelle took preventative measures. Tragically, these backfired.  
> Finnick's family was mentioned more in 'Coming to reward them', as was the fact that Honey Badger (the crazy anti-sheep Honeybun we all love) and Madge Honey Badger (the one we saw in the film) were both distinct characters and siblings. Madge however did have a mention in ZTOP, unlike Finnick's brothers and sisters. In a recent rewrite, I chose to give her a quick cameo too as more (fictional) honey badgers are never a bad thing.  
> The reptiles really haven't been given much of an intro, though that'll come if I do the SkyeSavage prequels. Mammalia and Reptoslavia have a very frosty relationship, so the latter country gave our guys sanctuary to spite them (similar to Julian Assange with Ecuador).  
> Also, Holly's name is a reference to a very famous TV show...  
> .  
> Don't act like you don't know!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7:**

.

 

 

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

I’m so sorry that I worried you.

I really am. If there was anything I could do to take away the worry that I caused you, I would do it.

I promise.

I swear.

Love, Grima.

.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

Mistakes and bad things happen. Worse things than you missing some emails, and me going into a panic, have happened to both of us.

Don’t worry about me.

I’m just happy that I know you’re safe.

Melony.

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

None of my favourite emoticon’s?

For shame.

Anyway. While the memories and scars will be with me until the day I die, it’s not as if a mere mention could trigger one of the episodes that I used to have. Those days are over now. I’m pretty certain that they’re never coming back.

You don’t need to worry that I’ll try to end my life.

Life is too good to not live.

For us.

And, in the (not too distant) future, everyone.

(Kind of…)

Love,

Grima.

.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’

‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’

‘(ʘ)˾(Ѳ)’

Enough for you?

.

Anyway, I know I shouldn’t worry. It’s just that, given how much Gazelle’s death shook me, I know what those attacks can be like.

Before, I couldn’t really comprehend.

But knowing. It’s a whole different perspective.

I suppose it’s like prey and the collars.

.

If her tigers hadn’t been wearing their collars, she’d have survived you know?

Aleksei had tried to hold onto her, to stop her doing something crazy. I didn’t spot it when he came down, but his face had been pulverized by her horns and hooves. He was trying to keep a grip, but then she bit him. Combined with everything else, his collar went off. He released her. She leapt out of the smoke and fell to her death.

The other two had stopped shocking themselves not long after. But as he was being patched up in the hospital, the news came in that her heart had stopped, and he began shocking himself all over again. Screaming about how it was his fault. How he could have been ‘more mature’, and held onto her for just a little longer, until one of the others could grip her. Or pull out her tranq’ revolver and dart her.

But that didn’t happen.

She jumped. She fell. We got her to hospital, but there was nothing they could do.

The blood loss was just too great.

Every limb and most of her ribs were broken, but they think she could have pulled through had it not been for the complications.

One of the side effects of the new formula that was being used (designed to keep savage preds dangerous but below the shock threshold) was a reduced heart rate along with inferior clotting ability.

She bled inside and didn’t heal fast enough. Her blood pressure dropped, but she didn’t pump more blood faster. Cells began dying, rather than healing, meaning more blood loss. And it carried on and on, however much new blood they pumped into her, until it was too late.

I begged the doctors to do something to help Aleksei. In the end, this one mule waved us into a back room and swore us to secrecy. He removed his collar, and let him scream and shout until he fell asleep.

.

Do you think that what happened that night had any effect on the Jury?

Seeing a predator and prey both being targeted?

One killing herself in her rage. Her protectors unable to protect due to their collars?

Maybe if they’d have saved her, do you think anything would have changed?

.

Melony.

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

No. I think they planned to find him guilty of something no matter what.

.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

.

Nicholas still thought about the night before. What he’d seen go on. How for a moment he thought that things really were changing, only for the powers in the shadows to crush the bud under its foot.

The ride to the courthouse was quiet. Along the road and into the secure yard. Out of the police car, walking forward with his arms chained close together. Into a dressing room and his hands freed, two mammals watched him as he took off the orange uniform and put on a shirt, trousers, jacket and a tie. Carefully folding the knot, he let them place an arm on each shoulder and lead him in. The crowd were still there, looking on. Eyes eager for the slaughter. Sitting next to him was the lawyer they’d provided him with, who seemed happier to be rid of him than interested in finding out what the verdict would be.

Nick had his theories.

He was pretty certain of what would be said.

He still pondered whether something interesting might come up. His lawyer had desperately called him insane a few times. Mad. Delusional. Nick pondered whether being sent to an asylum could happen. He wondered whether it would be better or worse.

The judge hammered on his gavel, looking over them all.

Fourteen mammals marched in, filling the two rows of the jury box.

The judge asked if they’d received a verdict.

One of the jury, the moose, stood up.

He said yes.

The judge asked what their verdict was.

The moose unfolded he piece of paper, and spoke. “On the charge of gross public endangerment, by a majority of thirteen to one, we find the defendant, Nicholas Piberius Wilde, guilty.”

“Why am I not surprised!?”

Nick’s shout was almost lost among the sounds coming from behind him. Cheers, chatter, boos and hisses and the sounds of camera’s going off. The judge brought his hammer down hard and silenced them, Nick taking the time to sit back down and smile. Settling back into his chair, he looked over at the head of the jury as he continued.

“On the charges of gross professional misconduct, the jury was unable to come to an agreement, with two members vehement in the belief of jury equity in this case. Thus, by law, we find him not guilty.”

This time a whispering murmur of confusion came up from behind him as the judge, a sudden sour look on his face, turned to look at the head juror.

“The jury understands that this means that, although you believe he broke the law, you are claiming that the law is unjust?” he asked.

“Indeed sir,” the moose replied. “Two of us did, anyway.” 

The judge sneered slightly, as if he were about to be sick, as the final charge was read out.

“On the charge of failure to properly contain an uncollared predator, we find the defendant, not guilty.”

A final roar came up from behind, and Nick felt himself smile just a little bit. He’d dropped a few arguments here and there that, as Jorge hadn’t actually escaped Wild Times, he wasn’t guilty of this. He was happy that two of the charges, including the one that could send him away for life, were returned as not guilty.

 As for the one that was, he’d been expecting it as part of a hat trick and, just like he said, wasn’t surprised one bit.

The judge, looking even more displeased, was hammering now and standing up, ready to give sentence. “Nicholas… ‘Piberius…’”

“Family name, sir!” Nick interrupted, before being cut off by another barrage of gavel bangs.

“…Wilde, you have been found guilty of gross endangerment of the public. If I had my way right now, you’d have been found guilty of the other two charges and been given the maximum, life, sentence. I may not be allowed to give that, but I will give you the highest one I can. You are not a hero. You are not some martyr, or prophet, or freedom fighter. You are a devious, cunning, arrogant little fox who decided to twist and abuse the rules of this land. You claim to have done this, ‘for your people’, but you were the ones you put at risk the most, and thus the ones leading to your sentence. I hope that as you spend your days in your cell, you’re able to think over just what you did. Come to realise that you are a dangerous savage. That the collars are needed, and are a vital part of this society. And that removing them would cause anarchy, pain, death and far worse. It therefor gives me great satisfaction to sentence you to twenty years of imprisonment. Maybe, when you come out, members of prey society will have learned not to trust all the madness that comes out of your, or any other foxes, mouths.”

The gavel slammed down, and Nick didn’t feel one thing.

He was led out, guards on both sides, back to the changing room.

He put back on his orange uniform, knowing he’d be wearing it for two decades or so.

He was led to a prison van, more guards waiting, and locked in a cage in the back.

Sitting down in his chair, he felt the engine start and the van move.

.

.

.

For a moment, he felt like he could be the only mammal in the world, abandoned by all. The words, twenty years, slowly beginning to repeat in his head, only made it worse, beginning to taunt him.

Twenty years.

Twenty years…

No family.

No friends to visit…

.

Just him in the big house, surrounded by strangers.

.

.

He might as well be alone.

.

.

Alone…

.

.

Pulling up an arm and examining the orange uniform he wore, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, only to be stirred suddenly from his stupor. He opened them suddenly as a slightly familiar scent reached his nose and, looking up, he suddenly felt a lot less terrible as he spotted a familiar grey bunny standing across from him.

“Hey,” he said. “Judy.”

“Hi Nick,” she replied slowly.

They looked at each other for a moment, before Judy turned away. Nick didn’t mind and, relaxing back, he let himself crack a smile. “It’s not Nick anymore. It’s one-eight-two-eight-nine, isn’t it?”

She glanced briefly up at him. “I suppose,” she said, quietly, before turning away again.

Nick’s ears went down, and he leant forward. “Everything okay fluff?”

Judy remained silent.

“Sad that your favourite nemesis is no more?” he softly teased. “Worried that your careers peaked? Developed a conscious and an awareness that you’re a bad guy?”

Judy looked up at him, a tiniest of an upturn on the ends of her lips, before she turned away again.

Shrugging, he stood up in his cage and wandered over to the door, his muzzle peeking through as he looked down at the officer, a little smile growing on his face. “Or, is it that you don’t like one-eight-two-eight-nine? Not catchy enough? How about twenty-eight, huh?”

“Wait, what?” Judy asked, looking back up at Nick.

“You want to call me all my numbers,” Nick said, letting the little grin grow into a large, sly one, though he mentally kicked himself at the corniness of his whole joke.  “All my numbers, added up together, is twenty-eight!”

He watched Judy smile, before she turned away, the loneliness that was starting to bug him growing with ever more vigour. He watched her, ear tip to tapping toe, before noticing what the latter was doing on the floor of the van.

.

Tap… Tap… Tap……… Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap…

.

Tap… Tap… Tap……. Tap-Tap-Tap-Tap…

.

He cleared his throat and spoke. “Try everything.”

Nick watched as Judy stood bolt upright, turning to face him. “How did you…?”

“Educated guess,” he replied, shrugging as he did so. “And I’m sorry. I suppose, well… -as you know I’ve had some important things come up in my life recently.” He gestured down to his uniform, feeling suddenly warmer as the bunny officer held in a single chuckle, before carrying on. “Things that were a bit of a distraction, and didn’t leave room for much else. But, I saw the performance last night. I remember feeling my collar shock me as I looked on in horror at what was going on. Hearing the sound of the pistol firing. Seeing… was it Raja?”

Judy nodded slightly, and Nick continued. “Seeing Raja fall and scream. It reminded me of that night... And I’m sorry. She was a good person... A great mammal. One of the greatest, even. I’d always deny it, but even before she started campaigning for my innocence, I secretly liked her…”

Looking across, feeling the silence radiate from his one companion, he huffed, throwing his arms around and walking back to his seat, making one last attempt to made things less depressing. “-Emphasis on secretly. If you ever capture the others, don’t tell Finnick.”

.

…

“I failed her.”

.

“No,” Nick said, his eyes widening at the statement. Standing up again, he walked over to the bars of his cage, holding onto them and looking down. Judy was crying now. Ears down and over eyes, and paws on top of both. “You never did. You can’t blame yourself…”

“I was supposed to track him down!” she shouted. “Track him down and bring him in and I failed! I failed, and he killed her!”

Looking down, an odd sense of pity in him, Nick sat down onto his haunches, eyes level with Judy’s. “You failed, but that’s because you tried everything,” he said slowly, looking down into a corner as he spoke. “I tried everything, look where it got me. You get to try again. I think I can actually root for you, you know. As long as you give that turd a healthy dose of police brutality when you do catch up with him.”

Hearing Judy guffaw slightly, Nick relaxed again, before an idea popped into his head. “You know, Judy,” he asked slowly. “I don’t know that much about you, do I?”

“No,” she said slowly. “You don’t.”

“And I think that’s kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

She turned to face him, and smiled slightly. “And why would you think that?”

“Well, we could play a game, you know,” Nick replied, putting more pressure onto his hands as he leant forwards. “You tell me all you know about me. I tell you all I know about you.”

Judy looked around for a bit, tapping her feet, before shrugging. “I’m not meant to make friends with prisoners, yet alone convicted criminals, but I don’t see the problem with a bit of talking while we take you back to the station. Your name is Nicholas Piberius, and that’s a stupid middle name by the way...”

“And traditional,” Nick butted in.

“…Wilde,” she finished. “Born and raised in Zootopia, your parents were arrested and sentenced to life under the harmony act when you were eight. You were taken in and raised by a set of family friends, the Ibn-Zerdain’s, and you graduated school with medium to good grades. It’s worth noting that you had a few reprimands in earlier years though, for selling unhealthy goods on school property.”

“Dumb rule anyway,” Nick snorted. “I made a lot of mammals happy, a lot of money for myself, and what happens? Some spoilsport comes around and shuts it down… story of my life.”

“After that,” Judy continued, “you did a few jobs before working in a Bug Burga factory for about a decade or so, before retiring. It was around this time I met you and Mike, firstly when I helped you buy him a jumbo pop and secondly when I ticketed you…”

“Did you ever get those jerks?”

“I think I did…” she began, thinking back before shaking her head. “Anyway, we bumped into each other a few times after that. Then you set up your secret amusement park, I ran into you, this stuff happened and… well, here we are.”

“Here we are now,” Nick agreed. “My turn. Your name is Judy Hopps. You wanted to be a cop since you were a kid, were the valedictorian of your class and, despite a bumpy start, have done well for yourself. And I’m done. Not as much, is it?”

“No,” Judy replied slowly. “Not as much for sure.”

…

“And?”

She looked up, thinking for a second. “What do you want to know?”

Nick paused like she did, before coming up with his answer. “Why did you want to become a cop in the first place?”

.

Judy shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

He chuckled, rolling his eyes at the cliché. “I don’t mind, it’s not as if I’m going anywhere.”

She didn’t seem to mind, and looked at him and smiled. “Well, as long as you promise not to use it to tease me or anything…”

“I promise,” Nick replied, holding up a paw and two fingers. “Ranger scouts honour…”

“Bunny families are big,” Judy began. “And I mean really big, up in the hundreds. Or, at least, my one is. I have at least two hundred and seventy-five siblings and, as you can imagine, this means lots of caring for little ones. Even from other little ones. I love my parents, and they love me, but we get a whole lot more love from our siblings. We give a lot of our love back to them too, which is probably a relief for my Mum and Dad.”

“I can imagine,” Nick said. “Don’t want to orphan yourself by burying your parents under a mega cuddle fluffle.”

Judy cracked a smile at his words, before carrying on. “As I said before, even when I was young I was looking after little ones. It was what little bunny Does did and, when I was six or so, I was put in as part of a group nursery. I had an older sister called Fern, who’d raised me just as much as my mother and, together, we were put in charge of raising a bunch of newly born bunny kits… Laura, Michael, Daniel, Willow, Amelie and Chloe… and I really wanted to do it. If I tried at something hard enough, I could do it…”

“On a scale of zero, to me right now, how wrong did it go?” Nick asked playfully.

“Oh, it’s up there,” she groaned. “Every time I tried to hold them, they’d squirm and cry. Every time I burped them, they’d throw up and just wail louder. It seemed that every time I touched them, things went wrong. I’d try to play with them, and soon my parents were coming down and saying that I was too rough. And that wasn’t even the worst of it.”

Nick nodded slowly, “Them being babies, I can presume what that was.”

Judy paused, her nose twitching. “New revelations about kit care aside, whoever thought mashing prunes in with carrot puree was a good idea is dead to me.”

Nick barked out a laugh, before she carried on.

“I remember that at that point I knew that I was never going to do this. I was in a bathroom, I locked the door and I just scrubbed my face,” she said, slowly getting more animated. “I washed it and washed it and washed it, trying to get the filth out, and I cried, a lot. I just couldn’t carry on, and wanted to stay there forever. My parents came over to check, of course, and soothed me by saying that I’d grow into it. That I’d be able to learn to do it as if it were as natural as hopping, and I’d have a hundred other kits when I was older. All because we were Hopps’ and that was what Hopps’ do.”

“And what did this Hopps’ do?”

“I ran away,” Judy said. “I copied all those cartoons, and I grabbed a stick. I wrapped a towel around the end with some essentials inside and lifted it onto my shoulder, and then I marched off into the sunset. If that was what a Hopps’ did, then I didn’t want to be a Hopps’. I was going to start a new life! …or at least I would have…”

“Didn’t go to plan?”

 “You could say that,” she said. “By the time the sky was turning orange I was starving, given that my little hamper had come undone and spilt my carrots everywhere. Thankfully, my parents had phoned the police and they found me. There was an officer there who asked me why I’d run away, and I blubbered about not wanting a bunny life or something, and he said that I didn’t have to follow it. He said that this was Zootopia, where anyone could be anything! Looking back, I think it was a joke, but he said that I could even be a police officer or something.”

“Ah, the birth of officer Hopps,” Nick noted, as she nodded back.

 “He explained the situation to my parents, and they laid off on the whole bunny life thing a tiny little bit. Me, meanwhile… I took what he said to heart. I started reading books and watching tv programmes about cops and I loved it and… well, here I am?”

“Here you are,” Nick replied. “You didn’t want to have a bunny way of life, so you chose to shoot the moon instead!”

“Yeh!” Judy said, laughing. “I don’t get it, but I think it’s the same as go big or go home. I went big, didn’t I?”

“Not as big as I did carrots,” Nick joked back. “Not as big as I did. Not as big as I did…”

He trailed off, waiting for his companion to carry on speaking, only for it to never come. Looking around, he breathed in, deciding to wait this out.

.

.

.

…

“Judy?”

.

“Yes Nick?”

.

“Do you… Do you think I should be going to jail?”

.

The question hung in the air, receding into silence, before Nick spoke again. “Do you think I deserve to lose twenty years of my life for what I did?”

.

“Remember when I said that what you said about the collars being terrible was you being melodramatic?” Judy began.

Nick blinked, the mention of the one bit of clothing he got to keep bringing its existence back into sharp focus. Bringing a paw up and feeling it softly, he sighed. “What do you think?”

“I used to thing you were,” she said slowly. “But now I’m not so sure. The same for you being sent away like this. I think that’s why I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I’ll stop then,” Nick said. “But thankyou…”

“What for.”

“For talking with me,” he said, before scratching the back of his head nervously. “It made me feel less lonely.”

Turning to sit back down into his chair, he paused as Judy spoke up again. “Nick… I know that what I went through in my childhood can’t compare to what you went through… But I felt alone and miserable, my parents and I not seeing eye to eye, but I quickly learnt that we still loved each other. Those babies, I thought they’d hate me, but when they got a bit older, they loved playing cops and robbers with me...” As she spoke, Nick reached back out to his cage, holding the bars and shivering as her paw touched his. “…And I guess the moral is, you’ll find companions where you least expect them. I hope that helps.”

Pulling back, he nodded, retreating to his corner where he leant back into his chair, wiggling about as he settled down. Already he was getting a bit bored.

.

Time seemed to pass. He had no idea how long they’d been going. Twiddling his thumbs, exploring his mouth with his tongue, he looked around a bit before sensing that something was not quite right.

.

Carefully waiting, checking, he confirmed it, and broke the silence again. “Hey, fluff? Is it me, or are we not moving?”

Judy turned to face him, her ears rising slightly. “You’re right. Hang on.” She wandered off, passing through a door into the front of the van before quickly coming back. “We’re still in the court,” she said. “Apparently there’s a mob of preds just sitting down in front of it, not letting anyone out.”

His ears rising slightly, Nick let himself smile before relaxing back into his chair, chuckling slightly. “I know I should be happy, but given the lack of entertainment here, I’m almost annoyed.”

This time Judy couldn’t hold back her laugh, the short sharp sound echoing around the van.

.

Not long after, they finally began moving. Slowly but surely inching out. Judy, though she stressed that this was a small breach of regulation, had brought her phone out and tuned it to the radio. Nick, meanwhile, balanced himself up on his chair and peeked out of his window. Cops were running back and forth like mad-mammals, trying to haul away pred after pred and even a few prey. Most of the time, each one they removed was replaced by another, who came charging back in to take their place. The van still moved forwards though. Slowly but surely.

He could hear them chanting _. ‘You have no right to judge us…’ ‘You have no right to judge us… ‘You have no right to judge us…’_

A cramp growing in his leg, Nick sat down again, noticing that his collar had gone orange as he did so. He thought about jabbing Judy, asking her whether this looked like aggression or something.

He chose not to.

Any gaping hole of loneliness inside him had been well filled.

He decided that he’d rather just savour the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I was writing ZTOP, I knew I'd get things wrong. As I was releasing it, I learned that it was Nick himself, not Jorge, who was turned savage.  
> As I wrote it, I took the assumption that many things would have been closely linked between it and the final story, and I made a presumption that where you could copy, you should. Hence Gideon's involvement in Judy's backstory. However, a director Q&A revealed he wasn't in the original version (rather, Judy's parents didn't even know her name.)  
> Finally, after watching WillFanofMany's own theory, I developed a new outline in the authors notes chapter at the end of ZTOP (on the fan-fic version) (this may not be updated in regard to Gid).
> 
> I won't redo ZTOP, given that I've based things off of it and it'll take too much time. However, I was thinking of doing some bonus chapters, which would show these alternative versions. E.g. An alternative Nick backstory/ therapy scene, an alternative reunion between Nick and John (in the basement of the Oasis stadium), an alternative confrontation in the palm hotel, an alternative 'Hello Bunnyburrow' AND... an alternative Judy backstory on the sky tram.
> 
> However, with the newly released scenes, that timeline is out. Kozlov is much more antagonistic, there's a room key involved now and Nick knows of a sheep. Finally, Nick and Judy split up after Kozlov's, meaning a skytram scene is very likely out.
> 
> This is a shame as it would likely be the scene I re-did first. However, I chose to tame down that backstory version so it fitted in with my canon, and I gave it to her here. The previous planned backstory would have involved the parents who don't know her name being far nastier about her rejection of 'the Hopps way'. Judy (after a scene reminiscent of Sam's citadel montage in GOT season 7, and getting the face full treatment) would have cried out about maybe wanting only a few Kits, so she knew their names, or no Kits at all. Her parents would coldly reject her breakdown, while talking about harsh punishments and such (all to 're-set' here). So, she'd run away. That would fail, she'd be picked up by an officer, and she'd tell said officer her story. He'd motivate her, inspire her, and give her parents some harsh words.
> 
> They'd never learn her name, or care for her profession (or really for her that much, bar when a Fox got involved), but they wouldn't threaten her again. Judy would be inspired. She'd research the police, and choose to become one.
> 
> The NaMoWriZo version of this backstory, along with its foreshadowing, quickly turned out to be very jarring and out of place, so in my rewrite before starting part 2, I changed it around. Focus more on Nick being lonely, getting Judy to talk to him and she, realising this, using her story as an example of Nick finding companions in places he wouldn't expect. This works well with the next chapter, as well as parts of the second half.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:**

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

I have a confession to make.

Something I did, after Gazelle’s death, that I kept secret from you. I’m not sure why. Maybe it was because I was scared that you’d rub in the stupidity of what I did? Maybe it would be because you’d feel concerned about what happened? Maybe you’d feel guilty, or angry, or something…

I don’t really know, looking back, why I didn’t tell you.

Looking back though, I’m not that sure why I did it in the first place either.

I mean, calling my parents is only going to have one outcome, isn’t it?

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

I didn’t know you did call them?

How badly did it go?

How much did they brush you aside, or insult you, or call you names…?

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Considering the first thing I heard my mother say, after five years of no contact, was ‘Oh… it’s you’ (or the pandarin translation, at least), I’m pretty certain you can guess.

It was cold and harsh, as I expected, and truly set the tone for what was coming next. She asked about why I was phoning. Whether I’d come to repent my ‘disgusting ways’ or whether my ‘perverse fascination’ with predators had come to bite me in the tail.

I asked her what she knew about what had gone down in Zootopia.

She just said it was some messy stuff caused by far too many predators.

I remember pointing out, for some stupid reason, that it turned out Zootopia was gripped by some kind of conspiracy that was attacking predators. That the planning, at least, was connected to this missing sheep. That predator lives were being ruined and that, as shown by Gazelle, prey too could be affected.

She snorted, in the way she does, and scolded me. She said that I’d just admitted that she was right. ‘Too many Predators,’ she said. Too many, and its meaning prey want to do something about it.

I asked how this was their fault. How predators, who in no way wanted this, are at fault for their attackers.

She said that they may not choose it, but they’re at fault non-the less. And that means that, as always, she and father were right, and I was wrong.

Too many predators, she said, always cause problems. Always cause issues. Even if indirectly, and that’s why I should stay away from them. That’s why my delusions are mad. That’s why I’m a species traitor, and why they disowned me.

I should have known that something like this was going to happen.

But I’m just a stupid panda, and I believed something different would happen.

Why do I believe such stupid things, Grima?

Why do I?

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Because they’re your family Melony.

You can’t choose your family, or how good they are at it. But, deep down, even if they fail you, you want them not to. You want this connection that you see others having, and you want them to be perfect. You feel that there’s no alternative other than fixing them, even if they can’t be fixed. Because being without them is so terribly lonely, and there are some holes that can never be filled.

Maybe it’s not a stupid thing, Melony.

Maybe it’s because you’re a good person, who believes that despite what others have done, they can become good too.

That faith you have Melony isn’t a bad thing. It’s a beautiful thing. A lovely thing. It’s one of the things I love you for.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Thankyou.

.

And maybe it’s because I’m jealous of you and your family. Your father was accepting and your mother, while not, was at least polite about it. She admitted she had a problem, and felt uneasy, but chose to keep out of it.

And seeing her, over these years, slowly but surely warm up to you and me…

I wanted that with my own parents. I wanted them to be able to say, ‘I don’t mind that you’re anti-collar’ or ‘I don’t mind you’re in love with an insect eater’.

But instead, mother was like she always was. Cold, distant.

She asked me how proud I felt when I ‘perverted myself’ with you. I said back that I felt like the happiest mammal in the world. I was angry then, and just wanted to get her to understand. Or to hurt her. Or both.

And she did the one thing that would break me down.

She laughed. She laughed at my stupidity. She laughed at my delusion. She laughed at me like I as some kind of village idiot. A freak, locked in the stockades for people to throw rotten vegetables at.

She laughed and said I was too stupid for my own good. That I was a worthless gibbering idiot who’d get myself killed soon.

I screamed at her to shut up, but she just carried on.

Talking about how I was putting myself around tigers and lions who’d stare at me hungrily whenever I wasn’t looking. How they were using me, and going to turn on me the second they could. She spat at me for the crime of trying to put my older brother, a ‘real mammal’, and his wife and cub at risk.

Just on and on and on and on.

I slammed down the phone and just crawled onto a corner and cried.

Well, I did until my phone rang.

It was her again, trying to rub it in.

I left it to voicemail, and she was calling me a coward who couldn’t face my own problems…

The next call came, and said that I should go home. They’d discipline me, and put me right. They’d ‘fix’ me.

And the next call… It was the shaming. Talking about the sacrifices she’d made for me. All the things she did, and how I was so lucky to have her as a mother. How I was selfish, and how I’d hurt her so much. How I was cruel, and unkind, and didn’t even know that I’d been born. How others would be so happy for her to be their mother. How they wouldn’t betray her, and stab her through the heart, like I did.

I tried blocking the number, but then they were calling from a neighbour’s house. I tried blocking that one, but she found another. Then another. Then another and another and on and on and on…

Remember how I said I broke my phone and lost my number?

The truth is, I went to the phone store and asked for a new one.

I cut all contacts again, after reminding myself why I did it the first time.

I wonder how long it’ll be before I screw up again. Something goes wrong, and I phone them once more, and I just end up hating myself once again.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Tell you what.

Next time, just call me first. I’ll buy a burner phone and call them. I’ll tell them straight away that I’m the one in a relationship with you. I’ll tell them what’s wrong with you, and ask them what they think. I’ll try and filter out all their gunk and hate, and then pass anything useful onto you.

Of course, I’ll add all my advice and help too. And my hugs. And my kisses.

Maybe, soon, you can fly up and visit me.

It’s been so long since we last touched and kissed, and I miss you so much.

I just wish that I could bring myself to fly again. Tell myself that there isn’t going to be an incident, and we’re going to divert. Tell myself that we’re miles and miles from areas where I’m classed as a predator, and there’s no way that we’re going to end up there.

But, stupidly, I can’t.

And you’re busy, and I’m stuck here. And I never get enough time or money to take an overland trip.

.

Maybe we could try and meet up at my parents’ house?

I’ll try and cook some food you can handle and my father, at least, can give you some sympathy.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Really?

Thankyou.

Dealing with them… It’s a whole another thing you know?

And for you to be happy to do so. I can’t thank you enough.

But you must understand that they don’t listen. They refuse to listen.

I remember when I was six and I first met that little sun bear cub. As far as I knew, he was just a panda with a different coat colour and a thing around his neck. He was scared, but I started playing, and soon he seemed to be my best friend in the world. But I could tell he was hurt, and that he was scared of the thing around his neck. As we played, I saw him get excited and I saw it hurt him. I tried to take it off, but it only hurt him more because of it. So, I kissed him better and I waited for my parents to come.

I remember them looking in horror at what they saw.

I thought it was due to the thing around his neck and I said that I needed their help getting it off, given that it was hurting him.

And then I screamed as my father raced over and began kicking the boy. Kicking and kicking and kicking. He spat at him, and the boy got shocked, and my father was screaming at him for trying to prey on me. Screaming at him for tricking me, and trying to make me vulnerable. I begged him to stop, saying that this was my friend. But he kept on beating him however much I cried, and my mother dragged me away while he did so.

Taken back home, she sat down and asked me about what cruel things he did. How he hurt me. How he mistreated me. I begged her that he didn’t do anything, not understanding why she hated him so much. When I said that he was my friend, and that he hadn’t tricked me or hurt me or anything, I remember how her face changed.

I remember how she beat me across my face, and cried at me for being so stupid. For even going near a predator. I asked what a predator was, and how this different coloured panda was one.

She beat me again, saying that he was a mammal that ate others. How he was a monster, totally different from us.

I asked her why? But she ignored me. Ignored me like my father did too.

Then, as I read up later on… when I was, eleven or twelve, about these collars, they still didn’t listen. Our school had just been connected to the internet, so I looked up all about these different bear types and the collars.

I learned that I, a panda, was a member of the Carnivora order. That sun bear and I were both bears, only my species had evolved to eat bamboo. I learned that, in some areas, collars are put on all members of Carnivora, including panda’s like us.

I went to them and asked them about this. How it was fair that we didn’t have to wear collars and they did.

They shouted at me again. My mother slapped me, again. Screamed that we were living proof that predators could evolve, but the others chose not to. She said that we were better than them, and we had a right to be better. That we could lord over them, without a care in the world.

I asked about the places where we might be made to wear a collar.

My parents scoffed. They said it was a lie, or a myth, or something else.

When I brought in a book that said that, were we born somewhere else, we’d be collared, they laughed. They said that the mammals there were morons, but we didn’t have to care about them. ‘Just live somewhere else,” they said.

I asked where the somewhere else was for predators.

They said that they didn’t deserve a somewhere else. They’d just plot and find ways to go after us, so they needed to be kept under control.

When I asked, what would happen if mammals everywhere considered us as predators… If wherever we went, we were collared and hurt and insulted… They didn’t care to listen, or even come up with a bad answer. My mother just beat me, scolded me for being stupid, and sent me to my room.

I learned that day that, if they refuse to listen and just laugh, you should just go away.

That’s how I left and went studying.

That’s how I met you.

The last time I met them, I tried to explain that I loved you. That you were good, and kind, and sweet and sensitive.

They hated me and spat at me, calling me all those things. Saying I either stay there or leave the family, ‘all for some bug muncher’.

Before I left, I turned around and asked them, ‘would it make you happier if he was a sloth or something?”

They laughed, as always.

Said that I was a stupid girl, and that I should come back when I found a good male panda and had a cub in my belly.

I don’t know if finding out my parents were anti-inter rather than just anti pred-prey (if we can call you that) was good or bad.

I didn’t care.

As always, I’d been reminded that trying to reason and argue is pointless.

They never listen.

But I always want them to. And I always wish they did. Not that you don’t listen, but I just want someone, them or someone similar, who does.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

I think you’ll like my father, Melony.

He’s good at listening, and laughing.

My mother may not be as good, but she makes the effort. As I said before, she’s trying to warm up, and she’s getting there. Her meeting you might go very well. It might not, but I’m leaning heavily towards the good side.

We cannot choose our family Melony. We cannot magic in somebody, or pull someone we lost back. And sometimes new people come in, and they fit like jigsaw puzzle pieces. Other times, it’s just an almost, though you still love them. Other times, things don’t work out.

But we can try and choose our friends. And maybe, given enough time and effort, said friends can be as good as the family you want.

They can fill the gaps, and make us feel so much less alone.

Lots of love,

Grima.

.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Nick lay down on the back of his bunk, scanning the details on the mattress above him. He breathed in and out, before getting up and pacing around his cell.

There was nothing much there. A toilet and sink. A small desk and a chair. One or two books he’d borrowed from the library cart.

While he’d been happy to raise hell in the courtroom, he’d been somewhat of a model prisoner in the jail. It helped that he’d spent much of his time in the comfort of a hospital bed, and the rest in relative isolation. But he’d been given a few luxury’s, his most favourite being a puzzle magazine purchased with prison credits and a set of pens.

Settling down, chewing the end of one with his teeth, he slowly set to work at a complex sudoku puzzle. Checking the columns, rows and boxes, he copied what he already knew to be true onto a blank bit of the book and then started listing out the possibilities for the answer.

“You could be a two, him a one, and that chap a three,” he mused. “Or you a seven, him an eight and you a four…”

Looking further down, he noted another set of uncertain numbers.

“And you lot… make understanding the principle of quantum uncertainty a lot easier to rationalise. That or Schrödinger’s suicide box… thing…”

He leant over and noted a few other areas of numbers, before placing his pen down and standing up. Making his way over to the plexiglass door of his cell, he turned and looked out of one of the ‘air holes’ with an eye, trying to see if anything interesting was going on.

The terrace, giving access to his line of cells, was empty.

The little sliver of the common section at the cell blocks base, peaking through a small hole in the terrace railing, was empty.

The tall and thin slanted windows on the other side showed a thoroughly unremarkable day. Low grey clouds slowly rolled over. Down below, in the yard, there were other figures, clad in blue. Nick knew them as the female prisoners being held in the jail. It was their time in the yard, and they were using it to just mill about.

Nick’s tail slowly swept the floor behind him, as he wished that they’d get a volleyball or something and start playing. Then again, he remembered, a volley ball was a luxury that no-one could have.

Sighing and looking down, his ear rising as he heard the sound of a far-off door being unlocked, Nick thought.

And thought…

And then his ears rose up with a realisation.

Turning around, he raced back to his desk and brought out his book. Opening it out to the puzzle, he looked down at a third area where there was some confusion. “You there are either an eight or a seven,” he said. “And your partner over in this column is a seven, eight or four. But if you are an eight, then this guy can’t be one, which means the four goes here and he can’t be a four. And him not being a four causes problems with this group over here. So… he must be a four, you an eight, him a seven and I’m getting somewhere!”

Nick got up and fist pumped at his success, quickly filling in the boxes. Pulling his puzzle up, he smiled as he realised that the rest of this would be fairly basic to fill in, not requiring any major leaps of logic. He placed it down though, instead walking over to his bunk and starting to curl up on in, hoping to bask in his success for as long as it kept him warm and happy.

He was cut short as he heard a sudden knock on his door.

“Wilde!” a guard called out. “You have a visitor!”

Sitting up, Nick looked up at him and tilted his head, confused as to who would be visiting him. “Who… is it?” he asked.

The guard, a large Hippo, snorted. “Your mom! Now get out here so we can get you down to visitation!”

Nick’s collar went orange as the three-letter word was spoken out. Sitting up, he raced over to the door and placed his paws through a horizontal slit. A pair of handcuffs went around his maroon wrists, clamping down on the fur though not reaching the skin beneath, and he pulled them back in as the door opened. Walking out, in front of the watchful gaze of the guard, he began to make his way onwards. Along the terrace and past cell after cell, full of prisoners who were either lying and sitting down, or standing tall and watching him go past. Past a familiar large hippo, who bared his teeth as Nick went by. Past another cell, with Nick’s ears falling as he saw that the top bunk was occupied by a punkish looking alpaca, rather than the jittering, twitching, pickpocketing silver fox he’d become friends with.

He must have gone off to the big house on today’s bus.

Nick would be following him tomorrow.

Exiting the terrace, he was led down an unusual right-hand turn that branched off before the showers. Up some steps, windows overlooking the yard to his right, a door marked visitation lay in front of him.

His collar still orange as it was opened, he stepped through and looked up as he felt it close behind him.

Various tables and chairs, all silver metal, lay scattered in front of him. And, far off on one, there she was.

It had been so long since they last met.

Nick’s voice hitched, as he thought about what he might say.

His line of contact broken as the guard stepped in front of him, he watched as his cuffs were released and removed, before an overly hard pat on the back sent him stumbling forwards.

There she was again.

Nick was so nervous. He had so many questions too. For a few seconds, their eyes met. Nick’s tail began wagging, and he smiled.

And then she smiled too, and he knew that everything would be all right.

“Nicholas,” she said slowly, her collar orange as she did so.

Nick felt a tear dripping down from his eye, and raised a finger to wipe it away as he spoke. “Cherifa, I’m sorry.”

She huffed. “No you’re rutting not and I don’t want you to be. Now sit your tail over here and have a chat. It’s been too long.”

Nodding, Nick stepped forward and pulled out his chair. Sitting down, he watched as the little fennec vixen, who was still a head higher than Finnick, jump up and walk across the top of the table, her arms out to hug him.

“It has been Cherry Pie,” Nick slowly said, feeling a wave of regret flow through him. “Before my arrest that… that was my fault. After…?”

Cherifa stroked his muzzle slowly, and then spoke, “I didn’t want to risk being held in for questioning on the other’s whereabouts. They’re safe Nick.”

“They are!” Nick exclaimed, before winching down as a light shock pinched at his neck, though it barely dulled his relief and joy at the news.

“A friend smuggled them to the Reptoslav embassy the night before you were sentenced,” she explained. “They’ve been given asylum. They’ll live the rest of their lives in that one building, but out of the three buildings they could inhabit, I think that’s the best one. Don’t you?”

“Yeh,” he chuckled. “By quite a long shot.”

He watched as his adoptive mother stepped back and sighed. She’d been there for him for ten years, ever since the worst day of his life. She’d been the one to comfort him, and to teach him and to guide him. But they’d drifted apart a lot ever since he flew the nest with Finnick.

There were a million things he could say to her.

At the same time, there was nothing he could say to her.

He just sat there, looking dumb with an orange collar, as she paced back a bit.

“Please,” she said, “don’t think I’m mad at you…”

“I don’t. I know what that looks like.”

“I’m proud of you, and my little Finny too. I’m proud of all my kits, whatever they choose in life. I think…” She paused, breathing in and out deeply as she let herself calm down somewhat, ever mindful of the bulky collar that was strapped onto her small neck, forever making her look like she was off balance and about to tip over. “I think that you were one who chose to burn so bright Nick. So bright, but for so short of a time. You and Finnick. The others burnt low and they burnt long, you two short and bright. But you all put out the same amount. I’ll always cherish each bit of light as much as each other, however they came out. Remember that, my little star. Remember it.”

.

“I love you too, Cherry Pie,” Nick said, his voice hitching as another light shock sent him jittering in his seat. “You were always there for me. And you did more than you ever needed. More than I ever deserved… Heck, I was so ungrateful I could never… I could never even call you Mum.”

“That is because I can never replace her Nick,” Cherifa said, looking up. “Your mother was… no, is one of my best friends, even if I haven’t seen her in over two decades. It was my duty to make sure you were safe. For her. For your father. But I never expected, and never wanted, to take her place. It was not my place to take Nick. And never call yourself a bad son for that. I have four Kits who call me Mum. I have only one who calls me Cherry Pie.”

Nick looked down at her, tears flowing from his eyes and his nose flaring with every deep calming breath he took. Cherifa gave him a wave, and he knelt down, letting his head rest on the table. Kneeling, the vixen placed her arms around him and hugged him tight, stroking his head as the tears slowly came.

“Keep yourself safe Nick,” she said. “Keep up your fight, we’re all rooting for you. And enjoy the scorpion tagine that’ll be waiting for you back in your cell.”

Nick suddenly jolted, knocking Cherifa too. His chair’s legs skittered along the floor, propelled by the force of his shock induced movement. He whined slightly, but also giggled. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the warm orange face looking at him, framed by her familiar pink headdress. “It’s the last good meal you may have for a long time, you know,” she said.

Nick smiled back. “I know. I know Cherry Pie. And I will keep on fighting. I’ll be the meanest, nastiest, thorn in their side that there can be. And, by the time I meet up with my Mum, and my Dad, and everyone else, this world or the next… And when I meet up with old Khalid the face remover himself on the other side… I’ll have made them all proud.”

“You already have,” she said.

“I’ll even bring that wolf, and his sheep friend, by the scruffs of their necks to the Khal’s feet, so he can bite their faces off for real,” he vowed. “Uncollared, as he was always meant to be.”

.

.

He opened his eyes when he heard the whimpering. Looking up, he saw Cherifa kneel down and fall onto his head, crying onto him. He reached up with a paw, just as the first shock hit, sending her tiny legs flying out in every direction.

“Cherifa!” Nick said, a pang of worry flowing through him.

“I asked…” she cried, before shaking as she was racked by another shock.

“You asked what?” Nick asked.

“I asked them to remove it. To send him off as he should be but… but… they refused. He was buried with it still on, Nick. Even now, it’s around his neck. Even if they’re abolished… he… he… he won’t be free….”

Nick brought his other paw up and around her. Looking to the side, he checked that the guard wasn’t paying close attention, and slipped two of his fingers beneath her collar.

He gritted his teeth as another shock stung through them, but he didn’t cry out.

Instead he brought up his paw and gently stroked Cherifa’s ears. Calming her down and soothing her, as she cried into him and, eventually, him into her also.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finnick's mother got a few lines in CTRW, but not much else. In this universe though, she was Nick's guardian far longer than Marie-Anne was. I thought she deserved a mention. The bit about Melony's parents came about from the need to pad myself up above 50,000 (as did some other scenes, such as the opening one to the next chapter, as well as Judy investigating Woolly, Judy escorting Gazelle and the escape of Nick's friends). I felt it fit very well with the theme of this chapter. Love, family, what you are given, what you choose and all the complexities in between.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After feedback, I decided to re-do this chapter, in doing so adding about 300 words. If I ever get a large collection of scrapped chapters and stuff, I may make a 'dead babies' fic where it and others are displayed for your curiosity.

**Chapter 9:**

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Nick felt younger.

He felt small and he felt tired and he felt scared.

The collar around his neck seemed so much bigger now.

Every time he moved his head, it pinched slightly or rubbed.

As he tried to snuggle up on his damp pillow, it always imbalanced him. Pushing him off to one side, or nudging him in an annoying or uncomfortable way.

Whatever way he moved, it always pressed or hung.

It always hurt.

He wiggled slightly, before wincing as he felt a sting on his neck. Whimpering, though doing his best to be a mature tod and hold in his tears, he raised a paw to feel it.

He nudged the collar along a bit, whining as it moved. There were ten or so points that were painful. That ached or stung. Nick slowly moved the shocking unit of his collar away from the latest one, and moved it to a rare patch of virgin fur.

His neck still ached.

He was so very tired, but couldn’t go to sleep.

Slowly pulling the blanket off over him, he stepped out of his little basket and walked towards the door. Past the deep basket like bed where his friend Finnick was sleeping. Carefully out through the bedroom door and into the corridor. Walking along, careful not to make a noise, he slowly headed towards the door at the end.

He felt guilty, having to wake them up.

It was a relief when a door to the side opened, and she came out.

“Miss Cherifa…” Nick slowly said.

“Nick,” she said slowly, looking down at him. He wasn’t that shorter than she was, and he would soon be taller, but for now she still had the advantage.

“My neck hurts…” he whimpered, sniffing slightly as he rubbed it.

Her ears fell down, and she brought him into a hug. “Follow me,” she whispered, as she led him into the room she’d just exited. It was small, but tightly packed with a crib and other nursery gear. In it, a tiny little fennec kit lay, slowly getting up and watching them as they entered.

“Calm down little Tariq,” Cherifa slowly whispered, leaning over to fuss with one of his ears. “Go back to sleep.”

The kit lay down and curled up slightly, though he still looked on curiously at his mother and the strange new child. He watched as she brought out a tub of cream and, rubbing it onto her pads, leant over towards the boy.

He stepped back slightly, looking at the tub of white stuff.

“It’s not just for babies,” his mother said, putting her other paw on his shoulder. He looked at it for a few seconds before groaning. A paw rose up and slipped beneath the thing that hung around all the big people’s necks, before it shot out again as he whimpered loudly with pain. The thing’s green light went orange, and he sniffed, his lips trembling. The strange boy now walked forward, head bowed. The baby kit watched as his mother gently pulled the thing out a little, and began rubbing the cream beneath it.

Nick held his mouth tight as she rubbed, whimpering as the odd sting came about. Cherifa just looked on and sighed.

“It’s not going down to the skin as much as I’d like,” she commented, as she put down the tub. “Let’s get you some painkillers, help you go to sleep.”

They left that nursery, and slowly made their way downstairs. Into a small kitchen, where she opened a drawer and pulled out a little pink bottle and a plastic spoon. Nick silently watched as she poured out one spoonful, which he swallowed, before pouring out a second, which he also swallowed.

Cherifa put the medicine away, and brought Nick into a tight hug. “The pain will go away,” she said. “We’ll look after you.”

“Miss Cherifa…”

“You don’t need to call me that,” she whispered.

“Miss Cherry Pie,” Nick said, before pausing as she giggled.

“Go on…”

“When will I see Mum again? And what about my Dad? When can we go see Paps?”

“It’s Pop’s dear…”

“I call him Pap’s…” he mumbled.

“Of course you do,” Cherifa said with a smile.

“It’s been a week,” Nick continued. “When can I get to see them.”

Cherifa’s ears dropped back down further, and her collar went orange. “I’m sorry Nick,” she said. “But the policemen say that they’re not going to allow anyone to visit them. Ever…”

She hated herself for saying it, but it seemed like the best way. She told herself that even as he sobbed, and his collar went orange. Even as he dove into her chest and began to shake from his shocks, screaming into her while all she could do was hold him.

Hold him and hold him.

Her ears raised as a figure walked out of the shadows. Her size too, he looked between her and the smaller figure she held and sighed. “How badly is he doing?” he asked.

“It’ll take months to heal honey,” she said, whimpering as she felt one of the shocks go through her.

“It should take years,” he spat. “But I think with that thing, it’ll take weeks.”

“It’s not as if I can help,” she said slowly, “my paws are too small. Even if I can cover both, the shock just goes right through them…”

The fennec tod walked forwards, and slowly put a paw around Nick. “Come on boy, time to get you back to bed.”

Nick just whimpered back, following the two without saying a word. He still cried though. He still winced as he was shocked.

They went back into his room, past Finnick, who just looked down at him, and into his basket. He snuggled up, curling in on himself and holding his tail for comfort, and cried and was shocked. Khalid and Cherifa looked at him, both gave him a kiss, before leaving.

.

“Hey Nick.”

“What!?” Nick shouted out into his pillow, before whimpering slightly as another shock hit him.

“I…uh. Want to listen to some music?”

“I don’t care!” Nick cried.

Finnick hopped out of his bed, and brought over a large device, carried in both paws. Pressing a button at the top, he opened it up, before looking down at the racks of music below.

“Which CD do you want?” he asked. “We even got some stuff from your place, though most of it is your boring dad music…”

Nick’s eyes opened slightly, and he stood up. Walking over past Finnick, he knelt down and looked through the music.

“You’re going for dad music?” Finnick asked, shocked. “That’s all boring music… ‘cept the one that reminds me of my mad uncle Mahmoud.”

Nick ignored him, still looking through the cd’s. He sobbed slightly, and whimpered pitifully as another shock hit him. Finnick, reaching down to hug him, began stroking his friend.

“I don’t mind Slick,” he said. “We can shout ‘repent’ with the singer, and pretend we’re my crazy Uncle, I…” Finnick trailed off as he saw which disc Nick had brought out. “Isn’t that your least favourite song ever?” he asked.

Nick ignored him, and placed it down in the large CD player and closed the lid. The volume was down on low, but the first few playful strums of the guitar, followed by some slightly louder ones, sung out. They repeated a few times, before a cold voice sung.

_“A winter’s day…”_

More strums.

_“In a… deep, and dark, December.”_

Nick sniffed as it played, and grabbed hold of Finnick tight. The fennec tod felt a shock and a cry flow through him as Nick wailed, while the tempo suddenly picked up. “Slick?” he asked, alarmed. “You okay?”

“No,” Nick replied, standing up as the lyrics he so hated rang out.

_“I am a rock…”_

Nick sniffed in, and his collar went down to green. His eyes were red from his tears, and the fur beneath sticky and matted. He wiped them away. His trembling stopped, and he just stood there, a plastic grin growing on his muzzle. Slowly pushing Finnick off of him, he walked back to his basket and slipped under the covers once more. He didn’t move, or cry, or shake. He just closed his eyes, though Finnick knew he wasn’t sleeping.

He carried on watching, until the final lines of the song played.

_“I am a rock,_

_I am an island,_

_And a rock feels no pain,_

_And an island never cries…”_

The sound of beating plastic against iron shook the room, slowly making the memories drip and flow away. Finnick, the room, the song, they all vanished in a haze of white light.

It was years before Nick cried again at all. Over two decades before he finished the crying he’d bottled in on that night.

But now, for doing that, the time of his punishment had come at last.

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* * *

 

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

I was able to be out in time for the day that they sent him off.

Or at least the first day.

Every time the bus left the ZPD central precinct, on its way to ‘the zoo’ proper, we’d do our best to stop it. It was only on the third day, when the chief himself showed us a photograph of him being unloaded off the bus and walked, hands and feet in chains, into the building, that we went away.

Sometimes, I wonder what effect our ‘solidarity’ has?

Anyway, he was sent in. Taken through intake. And then, they sent him to hell again. Just because they could.

My contact doesn’t want to talk about what happened yet. Nick himself alludes to it somewhat in his writing, so I guess some detail is in order.

But I think we should just skim by what we know. The basics.

I don’t think we have the right to tell the world the details of what they did to him.

.

.

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Their little plot to destroy him.

No.

I don’t think we have the right to fully tell that story, in all its detail.

.

As for whether our solidarity has any effect.

In the grand scheme of things, no.

On the personal level?

Even the slightest hint. A glimmer. An idea that there were those on the outside who were willing to stand up for you.

In the pits of despair, facing the loss of everything. That tiny something would be the greatest thing in the world.

I would have wanted that more than anything.

I’ll always be thankful for what you and the others did, in hindsight. But a whisper of what were you were doing, while they had me.

It would be the most wonderful thing in the world.

Just a flicker of something on the wind, and everything would seem so less hopeless.

.

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* * *

 

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Woken up by the banging of a guard on his cell door, Nick lowered his tail and slid forward under his covers. His traditional vulpine sleeping form somewhat let him get enough sleep on the hard, flat bed. But it still couldn’t even match his former drawer and cushion. He was a basket mammal, and he felt that that would never change.

No matter how sleep deprived he got.

Straining his eyelids open as he peeked out from beneath his sheet, he looked up at the blue clad mammal.

“We’re shipping you out in ten minutes,” he called, pushing a box and a pen through the access slot. “Put all your possessions in there, write your name and number down, and be standing with the box ready for collection when I come back. You sitting at your desk, I’ll give you a whack! Lying back down on your bed. Two whacks! I want you facing forward, ready to give me the box and to get your chains on. Understand!”

“Yes,” Nick groaned, slowly sliding his feet out and dropping them onto the floor.

“That’s yes sir you mangy chomper!” the guard shouted back. “You’re lucky I don’t have a collar remote with me!”

“Yes sir.”

“Better, pelt. Nine minutes now. I have a schedule!”

As he lumbered out of view, Nick slowly made his way towards his desk. Piling his few papers and puzzle books into the provided box, he wrote down his name and number as instructed. Pausing, he turned over to the library book he’d been skimming through and made a note of the name and page number, jotting it down on the front of one of his puzzle books. Packed up and ready, Nick made his way to the front of his cell, box in paws, and waited, bouncing up and down on his pads as the seconds slowly passed.

Finally, the ground shook as the guard returned with two more following. Opening the slot on the cell door, he waved his hand and Nick silently pushed forward the box, all his meagre possessions inside, and watched as it was placed among a set of others on a cart being pushed by one of the guards. His paws out next, Nick watched as the thick cuffs were locked around his wrists, tightened just enough to uncomfortably pinch the skin beneath his fur. The door opened, and he stood still as his ankles were likewise bound. A chain was locked between the two sets of shackles, binding all four of his limbs together for the journey ahead.

“Step in line,” the first guard ordered, Nick silently obeying. Out onto the access terrace, and he saw a line of other prisoners, mostly prey but some preds, standing still to his right. Turning left, Nick felt a chain being led through his legs and locked to his vertical one.

“Any more?” the guard who fastened it asked, as he fastened another one in front of Nick.

The first guard pulled out a clipboard and shook his head. “This is the lot for today. Now let’s get these scum onto the bus to their new home. I bet they’re all dying to move in.”

For once, Nick resisted the impulse to make a quip or joke, keeping his muzzle shut as the first guard waved him forward.

His chains rattling as he started to take his stunted strides forwards, he watched as cell after cell passed. Many empty. Many full. The mammals were all looking at them now, with a range of emotions on all ends of the spectrum. Now and again, a green or orange light would be shining out from inside, while the looks on many of the other mammals would suggest that they’d be giving out a red light if they were collared.

Down through the building. Past familiar doors and then into unfamiliar ones. Large metal doors were opened to let them through, and they exited out into a small courtyard, a battered school bus waiting.

An order to halt was screamed from behind, and Nick followed it. A clatter of keys, and the chain binding Nick to the mammal behind his was released. Led on by the chain in front of him, like a dog on a leash, he struggled up the steps and hopped onto his waiting seat, emotionless as the chain was locked onto the bar in front of him.

The guard left, ready to repeat the process to the next prisoner, and the lone fox relaxed somewhat. Letting his guard down, and trying to relax into his seat, his ears pricked at something.

Voices.

Voices singing out from outside, the same words over and over.

_“You have no right to judge us…” “You have no right to judge us…” “You have no right to judge us…”_

Nick’s collar beeped, its orange warning light on, as a giant grin grew across his muzzle.

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* * *

 

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima.

Please don’t go there.

Please don’t.

It’ll hurt you, again.

And I don’t want you to hurt yourself.

I’ll do anything to stop you moping around in those memories.

Webcam time?

We haven’t done that in a while. Have we?

Anything. Absolutely anything. Just say.

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Melony.

I don’t want to run from the past.

I want to grow strong from it.

I know what Wilde was going through then. I can tell my story, and in doing so tell his.

I think it’s the best way.

.

Love,

Grima.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima.

.

Are you certain?

Are you absolutely certain you want to go through with this?

Cross your heart?

Ranger scouts honour?

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.

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TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Weren’t you the one who always wanted me to talk about it?

And I am certain. So yes, yes and yes.

I think it’s time.

I need to move on. Ever forward, to new destinations.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Are you okay?

Have you been moving washing machines again?

Grima?

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* * *

 

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Nick watched as the last prisoner, a shaggy goat who was mumbling something incoherent about unfair attacks on innocent traders, was fastened into place. Reading him, Nick guessed that he was some sort of hustler, though not a very good one. He didn’t plan to ask though, instead leaning against his window and feeling the vibration of the engine travel through it. The door closed, and they set off.

Tan concrete moved quickly past, before they jumped out into the street. Past lines of officers, all equipped with riot shields and holding back a sea of green and yellow lights. Nick noticed a few members of the crowd look at him, some with flashing or recording cameras in their paws, and he nodded at them, thanking them for all they’d tried to do.

The protesters thinned as they moved along the road, speeding up as they began the journey out of the city and towards the main jail complex.

A place whose name was whispered around in horror and ghost stories. To misbehaving children to scare them, or to older ones as a threat.

The Zoo.

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* * *

 

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TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima?

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

“EYES WIDE PUKES! WERE ALMOST AT THE ZOO!”

Nick jolted awake as he heard the scream of the head guard. Pulling up on his chains, he rattled around as he regained his bearings before looking out of the window. Tired green meadows rolled past along with the odd tree, carrying its full summer coat of leaves. The occasional mammal, a sheep or bunny, was tending a cultivated field here or there, but mostly things had been left to go fallow.

They were out in the meadowlands, likely an hour away from the city he’d always called home. Looking past the guard, and the back of the driver’s head, he spotted his new one.

The Zoo of the night time horror stories had always been the old one. The crumbling ruin of Hydras Point penitentiary, multiple rows of cell blocks built onto a rock spur that thrust out into the sea. Cut off from the rest of the country by a narrow isthmus, its grey walls had held some of the worst criminals in Zootopia’s history, having been founded with the city. But by the time they collared Nick, it was falling apart. A near escape by a gang of infamous elephant mobsters convinced the powers that be to abandon it. By the time they took Nick’s parents, the replacement was ready and in service.

From afar it looked like a set of large big box warehouses. Multiple cubes on the horizon, short, wide and squat. All had a mix of raw concrete rendering, and painted sections in what must have been the architect’s big idea, colour coding. Nick could count at least six of these boxes, three on the front row and three behind, and knew that there were more behind them. Getting closer, other features became apparent too. The repeating rows and rows of tall, narrow windows. Multiple masts adorned with huge floodlights and multiple surveillance cameras. Regiments of concrete posts, linked together with sheets of electric fencing. Forests of guard towers, manned at their top by shifting figures with large weapons slung over their shoulders.

Nick shuddered at the thought of it. He’d had enough experience with garden variety pred haters, and he knew that there would be some here, armed with rifles and collar remotes and the knowledge that they could do whatever they wanted to him.

The bus slowed as they neared the outermost fence, pausing at a large airlock like gate. They were in, and soon covered by a squad of sniffer boars. Nick watched as they made their way from the front of the bus to the back, sniffing and looking as they went.

The outermost door was closed, and the inner one opened. The bus rumbled, and they started on their way forward once more.

Along the road and between two of the blocks. Their outermost fences were right next to his bus window, with various rows of no man’s land additional fences cutting him off from the cliff like wall of the building. The indents of windows, and the odd large streak of unpainted or painted concrete, moved past as they slowly cleared the first row of buildings. Another row was approaching, although this time there was multiple rodent sized cell blocks on his right compared to the single standard sized one on his left. Looking over at the small buildings, Nick could see that they were like square donuts, and he thought he saw the figures of exercising mice and shrews in the central yards. They were surrounded by their cell blocks which, in turn, were positioned in the central square of the zoo’s nine block grid, surrounded by the rest of the complex. 

Glancing around, spotting the eight huge blocks that rose up all around them, Nick noticed a few anomalies. A large office tower stood in the centre of the complex, while a slightly larger than rodent sized block, covered with multiple glass domes, was nearby, black and orange figures flying in the centre. The one that truly interested him however was a lone black cube that stood alone, surrounded by patrolling guards. An odd sense of longing and loss washed over him, his collar going orange. It stayed with them as they exited the central square of the complex, turning left and rolling slowly through a set of open gates. Passing through the lines of protective fencing, they came to a halt in the shadow of the huge block, its sickly yellow paint looking like the vomit of a kit who’d eaten far too much custard. Armed guards marched past outside, while one of the guards in the inside came over and unfastened Nick from the bar he’d been tethered too.

“The door will open, and the first row will exit, before making their way to processing,” he instructed.

The door opened.

Nick, and the rest of the front row, exited.

Pads hitting the dirty tarmac, Nick followed the prisoner in front of him, a scarred and bruised tapir, as they advanced towards the door that punctured the side of the building, open like a maw ready to swallow them.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Patience Mel.

It takes time to write these things.

And no. I just felt a bit sick that’s all. Just some wind.

Sorry if I worried you.

.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

You did.

But apology accepted.

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Thanks. So, Melony?

.

Where to start on prison intake?

.

Superficially, it’s a set of procedures designed to accommodate a new prisoner into his new home. Given the wide range of mammals, and needs, proper orientation is required as to the procedures. The day to day routine. The power hierarchy and any unofficial rules.

Naturally, they let you stumble through that. No information or advice, rather they let you humiliate or starve yourself for the first few days or weeks. I think it’s omitted both by the guards and the prisoners for fun, you know? There’s little entertainment, so laughing at how the fresh bugs handle it is comedy gold.

There’s ‘danger reduction’ too.

In most territories, this includes collar checks as well as the introduction to the infamous collar remote. A few prey mammals have ‘dangerous weapons’ removed. However, this is only if they’ve proven themselves violent. Ram horns and boar and elephant tusks are the most common. However, antlers, any horns, claws or even spiny quills can also be removed if they mammal in question repeatedly uses them in an offensive manner.

For predators however, it seems the precautionary principle takes centre stage. All claws are cut back as far as possible, even in situations (like mine) where that makes many basic tasks (such as working with a pack of cards, brushing your teeth (not that I have any)) impossible. Talking of teeth, some nations try to ‘pacify’ those too. While I can understand the use and provision of muzzles for repeated ‘biters’, the use of them for those who are non-aggressive is particularly humiliating.

Compared to other options though, such as those in Mastodov occupied northern Katavulpia, and it is vastly preferable.

Hearing the screams of predators having their teeth filed down. Hearing that whirr of the electric filer, and the cackle of the ‘processers’ as they do it. Hearing the unremoved collars go off and off and off. Knowing that the pauses are to let the victims, likely thrown in by some remote judge for ‘pack behaviour’ on an automatic ten-year sentence, regain their consciousness, lest they miss the rest of it. Hearing them gag and cry as a solid metal muzzle two sizes too small is clamped and padlocked onto them, before they are sent on their way with an encouraging shock.

In any case. Once you’ve been rendered ‘not a threat’ (or before, depending on the order) there are the other things you get given, all adding up to make you feel like a worthless, pointless, nothing.

Security searches that violate you in every way possible. ‘Sanitary’ procedures, such as freezing cold showers and universal fur clippings, regardless of your species, that just give you a thin covering all over.

Unless you’re a sheep.

Because of course sheep still need their wool? You can’t cut a sheep’s wool, can you?

 Anti-tick measures that leave you itching and overpower your nose. A variety of shots, regardless of how many you have had before. Or whether needles make you want to puke or not.

It’s needlessly cruel Melony and that’s the point.

.

I need a little time to get the next bit down. Don’t worry though, I’m still good. It’ll be an hour max.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Nick’s intake at the ZPD holding jail had been one of the worst experiences of his life. He’d seen some of his most precious possessions strip away. He’d been humiliated in one of the most intense ways imaginable for a mammal like him. He’d been bruised and battered in a power show, before being dressed in a costume for murderers and rapists and strapped down, his nails prey to the clippers.

His collar was orange as he walked along another barren corridor, lines of guards to his right. One other pred who was on his bus, a civet who looked little older than eighteen, was just behind him. Nick, him, and eight other similar size mammals were curtailed off into a large holding room, separated from the rest. The steel gate closed behind them, locking them alone with twenty-something guards. One of them, a large goat with a nasty sneer on his muzzle, stepped forward and turned to inspect all of them, his gaze resting on Nick for an uncomfortably long time.

“Ther name’s Byron yer h _eee_ ’ar,” he snarled, his slurring and bleatish accent turning the last word into something that almost sounded like a bleat. “Byron Caprey, and I’ll be here making sure you lot aren’t going to spoil my block. Yer h _eee_ ’ar!”

“Yes sir,” the prisoners muttered.

Caprey shook his head slowly and pulled out a small remote, the sight of it sending both Nick’s and the civet’s collar orange. “That passes from prey. But what about you chomper scum,” he drawled, before turning to face Nick. “’Specially a vile piece ‘o filth like you.”

“Yes sir,” Nick said firmly, though not without slowly backing away, his back almost up against the wall.

“Yer think yer so cunning, I bet,” he snorted. “’Better check tha’ collar isn’t tampered with. Shouldn’t I?”

“It works!” Nick shouted out, already flinching down. “It works, I promise!” He breathed deeply in and out, paws covering his eyes as he awaited the explosion of pain to engulf his neck.

There was a click, and a light pinch touched the fox’s skin. His fur went up on end, and he slowly withdrew his paws from over his eyes. Looking up, still panting, he watched the goat twirl his remote before placing it back in its holster.

“What a B _aaa_ ’by,” he said, grinning sickly at the prisoners. “Tha’ ther’ is just a tester remote. Not allowed to use tha’ real deal in here! Yer know why, Fox?”

“Laws…” he guessed. “Protocol?”

The goat brought out the remote again and held it like a gun, waving it about a few times. “Tha’ partly,” he explained, before flicking it over onto the civet, giving him his own little shock. The predator grunted somewhat and shook once, before rubbing his neck with his paws. Caprey, nodding at his work, pointed the remote up into the corner of the room and sneered. “Camera’s,” he snorted. “They and ther w _aaaa_ ’rden get in ther way of treating you chomper scum properly…”

Nick gulped, but shaking his head he turned up to the hanging camera and smiled, holding up a hand paw. “Hi camera,” he said softly.

Caprey look Nick in the eyes, staring daggers into the fox, before stepping back and addressing the whole crowd. “I need to get yer all ready, shaved and clipped, ear-tagged up and then showered! Yer all get new uniforms, then meet ther w _aaaa_ ’rden! Got tha’?”

“Yes sir,” Nick and the others replied in unison, before ten guards came forwards, one for each of them. A bored looking pig grabbed his chain and led him forwards, past Caprey, and towards a waiting chair.

“Might need to check tha’ again though…” the goat mused behind them. “He was devious. I don’t want anything unfortunate happening.”

The pig officer ignored him, and sat Nick down onto the waiting chair. The fox watched as his arms and legs were tied in via straps, and sighed with relief as his chains were removed. The air filtered through his fur to his chaffed skin, bringing blessed relief, though he wished that his hands were free to rub them.

The relief quickly faded away as Nick saw a pair of pliers and some claw clippers being brought out.

“We can do it the easy way or the hard way,” the guard said, sounding bored more than anything.

Nick looked at the tools, closed his eyes and breathed in. “Easy,” he said, before extending all claws out. He kept his eyes closed throughout the procedure, slowly feeling as each appendance was tugged forwards before being released, somehow feeling lighter and different as he pulled them back. His fingers were quickly done in order, and then his toes too.

Opening his eyes, he looked at his dulled paws, before the pig began undoing his foot straps. “I will release you from this chair and you will then remove all of your current uniform, do you understand?”

“Yes,” Nick replied, before a sudden pinch grabbed his ear. He whimpered, tensing up as his eyes went wide, all while a familiar voice spoke out.

“Tha’s yes sir! Do yer understand chomper?”

“Yes sir!” Nick parroted back.

He felt Caprey release his ear and lean over him, speaking to the pig guard. “Back from here, his brush looks very bushy. What do yer think?”

“I-uh, didn’t notice anything wrong,” he innocently said back.

“Ah, yer just a big bit inexperienced…” the goat mused. “Never been here when there’s a flea or tick outbreak. Bad fer everyone… Planning to do a full clipping?”

“Shall I?”

“Better safe than sorry, I say’”

Nick sighed with relief as he felt Byron leave, letting his now orange collar drop down. He looked back at the guard, and spoke up. “Sir, what was that about...?”

“I am going to release you from this chair and you are going to undress completely,” he said, carrying on from before like nothing had happened. “You will place your paws against the wall, while we do some standard checks. We will then give your coat a clipping, you will be ear tagged and then sent to the showers. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir.”

“Good,” the pig replied.

More straps were undone, and Nick rubbed his wrists as he stood up, before his collar went orange with a dreadful realisation.

“What is the meaning of that?” the pig said, pointing up at his collar accusingly.

“Are-you,” Nick said, as his tail curled up defensively around his legs so that its tip came to rest in his hands. “Are you going to clip… to clip my tail?”

The pig blinked, looking down at it and then back at Nick, before shrugging. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it short.”

Nick was silent in his response, slowly undoing his entire uniform until he was as bare as the day he was born. Leaning against the wall, he saw the pig bring up a tray of supplies and look at him. “This next part is uncomfortably for both of us,” he said, before suddenly being joined by Caprey.

“Tha’s right,” the goat said, putting an arm on his shoulder. “Yer been doing a fine job as a rookie, let me handle this…”

“Uh… thanks sir,” the guard said.

 “Yer know...” Caprey drawled, as he walked up close to Nick, his breath twitching one of his ears and sending it flicking. “I thought I better see ter yer myself. Pays ter be sure…”

Turning back to the tray, he pulled out a blue glove, playfully pulled it down over his hoof, and his grin got ever so slightly larger.

Nick gulped, but he refused to whimper.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Grima.

Why on earth would mammals, yet alone ones who claim to be the good guys, enjoy this?

It’s not like I don’t believe you.

It’s these other mammals, and what they do, that I don’t believe.

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

Melony.

These procedures are like so many things that are terrible about mammal society. They try to justify everything they do with good intentions. They try and present a simple and convincing logic. They attempt to be ‘kind’.

In reality they are so needlessly cruel and petty it staggers belief.

It’s an outlet. An outlet designed to funnel hate and scorn down onto those a society has judged to be outside their ideal.

To treat them like, and make them feel like, grubs.

.

I wonder if the prey mammals who created them feel that it really is a form of justice? Punishing us for the unholy diet that evolution deigned to shackle us too.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

As Caprey pulled off the glove and needlessly flung it into Nick’s face, the fox gritting his teeth back.

“That was… thorough,” the pig officer quietly observed, the nonchalant response sending Nick’s ears down sharply. He’d refused to give the goat the satisfaction of seeing him get shocked during his search.

Pays ter be sure…” the goat said happily, though Nick noticed that he looked somewhat disappointed. Turning back to the tray, he pulled out a large set of electric clippers and turned them on, the sound sending a shiver down Nick’s spine.

“I can do that sir,” the pig said, only to receive an arm around his shoulder.

“Sonny boy,” Caprey drawled. “Never punch a gift giving horse in ther mouth, yer hear? Lemme do ther hard part fer yer!”

The pig looked sceptically at Caprey, while Nick closed his eyes tight as he felt hard hooves grab the tip of his tail, pulling the limb back tightly. It was all too much, and his collar flashed red with his fear. “Arghhhh,” he grunted, before panting with fear. “Now, this isn’t necessary, I…”

“Don’t speak outta turn!” Caprey chided. “And I am sorry, but it is.”

“Sir, that’s my tail and I....” Whatever Nick tried to say was cut off as he whined and whimpered at the feeling of a clipper running along the skin of his brush. His collar flashed red again, and he shook with the shock.

Beginning to whimper like a kit, the odd tear flowing from his watering eyes, Nick felt himself get trimmed down as sweep after sweep went up his tail. Cold air filtered down onto it, while the whole balanced of his body was thrown off.

With a final flourish, Caprey finished and finally let go. Nick swung it defensively around to his front, and felt sick as he saw what had been done to it.

Luscious deep red fur, fluffy and warm, it was no more.

It looked foreign. A long, thin, light pink snake. Completely naked, freezing, with nothing more than a light stubble left on it.

Nick closed his eyes and began breathing in and out, trying to make sure his crying didn’t get out of hand.

“Regulation,” Caprey said innocently. “Chompers coming in with fleas an’ ticks… Dumb chomper lovers say we need ter clip prey too! What do they know?” he stepped back, looking at his work, before handing the clippers back to the pig. “Carry on,” he ordered, with a slight pat to his shoulder. The pig watched him go, looking slightly concerned as his gaze flicked back to Nick’s tail every so often.

“Easy way or hard way,” he finally said, and Nick complied.

Soon the fox was wincing as fur all over his body was being trimmed. He’d moulted already for the year, so the cuttings down to regulation length were minimal, but the occasional nip of clipper teeth on his skin still stung out here and there. Caprey roughly covered all of Nick’s body. Chest, head, arms, legs and even his cheeks. Closing his eyes and pulling away as they came up, he glanced the fur that had fluffed up around those areas fall away to the floor. Nick stayed silent throughout.

“Regulation,” the pig said quietly as he finished, pushing Nick as he guided his prisoner back down to the chair. Looking around, he noticed that, bar the civet, the other prisoners had already left. It was just him and half a dozen guards, Caprey and the unnamed pig included.

“Regulation,” Nick heard again, and he gulped as he saw a piercing device, yellow tag loaded in already, being raised up. “You have five seconds to prepare yourself.”

Nick immediately started.

Closing his eyes as he felt his ear being gripped.

Bracing for what was going to happened.

Nick still yelped with pain as the sterile rod was shot through his ear, the shock enough to send his collar off. Feet scrambling and rising up, his arms trying and failing to dig into his chair, he breathed in and out deeply before looking at the pig guard. “Now you see why us Preds don’t like piercings,” he hissed.

“Regulation for all prisoners,” the guard explained, before slapping two small sterile blue plasters over either end of the ear tag. “Now, you will place your paws on your head, and shower. Understood?”

“Understood,” Nick said, as did as ordered. His ear throbbed angrily, and it seemed that even a simple breeze would make it worse, so he reached for his tail instead. He stroked it and petted it, before pulling it up to gently kiss. As he did so, he entered a tiled passageway, filled with the sound of water firing from hoses.

“Don’t wanna sleep in clipping fuzz, do yer?” Caprey said. “Shower time. Grab yer shampoo, and scrub! The sooner yer done. The sooner yer out!”

The clang of a metal door opening sounded out and Nick walked forwards, into the showers proper. Walking in, he felt the water pour onto his fur, cooling him down. He entered fully, and his bare tail entered too.

“Yaaaahhhh!” he grunted from the shock, barely managing to keep his surprise bellow red light territory. The jets of water didn’t just come down from above, but below as well, and the water was definitely on the wrong side of luke-warm. His tail was freezing, and he felt the chill of it as it rapidly pierced down to his skin. The only consolation was that it numbed down the pain in his ear, taking it down to an irritating buzz.

“Eeeeeeeppppp…… ARGGGH!!!”

Nick turned and winced as the civet entered, and managed to shock himself where he hadn’t. Teeth already chattering and body shaking, Nick hunched over on himself and look forward. The front of the showers was clear plexiglass, various guards observing them from the other side.

He didn’t care about his exposure now, instead curling himself up to try and conserve his body heat. His eyes landed on a bottle of shampoo and he grabbed it, quickly unloading huge amounts onto his body and scrubbing. Working his paws as hard as he could, fur from his toes to his ear tips was soon covered in a white foam which was washed away.

The cold was getting worse, Nick fearing he might fall over from the shaking in his body.

He finished up and hunched over, looking over at the civet. He too was also finishing and bracing himself from the cold. Looking forwards at the guards, warm and dry behind a glass screen, they looked on with pleading eyes.

Seconds ticked by painfully slow as the guards looked at them.

Silent.

“I think ther pelt there…” Caprey slowly mused, using his hoof to stroke his beard. “… I think he’s still covered in muck and filth. Don’t yer boys?”

His collar orange, he looked at Caprey with a look of pure and unreserved hatred, before grabbing the shampoo bottle and covering himself again. Paws worked as hard as they could and foamed him up, before he washed and shook himself off.

“I s’pose tha’s good enough. Better dry yer all off,” Caprey announced, and both predators sighed with relief as the door out of the showers slowly opened. The shower heads stopping, Nick shook himself off as he walked, mumbling a quiet apology to the mammal behind him. Out of the showers, and into a spares room with a bench and some towels. Grabbing one, Nick did his best to dry himself off, though he still shivered and shook, his teeth chattering. Sneezing a few times, he turned to look at the guards who were grabbing vials of something. Knowing the next stage, Nick backed up to one of them and lowered his head, as the guard dropped a huge dose of potent anti-flea treatment onto his nape.

With the other prisoners complete and waiting, the final transformation into inmates began. Walking forward, still shivering and now being bothered by the pain in his ear again, Nick made his way towards a waiting jumpsuit, laid out by the pig, and stepped in.

While the one in the ZPD jail had been an ugly orange that somehow clashed brutally with his fur, this one was the most gaudy, hideous shade of yellow Nick could imagine.

His fashion sense screamed out, but he knew he had no choice. He put on the garment regardless, stepping in and feeding his arms into the sleeves. Reaching around, he threaded the two sides of the zip on the back of his collar together and pulled down until he reached his, locking himself in. He’d have tucked his cold tail inside his suit, but he was cautious and didn’t want to give anyone any excuses.

Nick and the other inmates turned around, facing the guards.

They wore broken, emotionless faces and had drooping ears and dull eyes. Standing out in their yellow suits, black blocky numbers stencilled over their chests, they were mammals no more.

They were prisoners now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music buffs should get which Dad song Finnick liked. Movie Buffs should know who the main guard is a reference to (and yes, be afraid). His accent is supposed to sound like he's slurring/ slipping into Baaa's. Talking of goats, there's a small reference that some of my more dedicated readers might spot.
> 
> The first scene was originally an idea I had for a one-shot, featuring some classic Simba and Garfunkel. However I included it into this story to pad it out a little. Before that, this chapter and the next one were joined together and easily took up more than a fifth (maybe more than a quarter) of this story's word count. 
> 
> Large amounts of early concept art includes Predators with these ear tags on (in place of the collars). I chose to integrate them into this setting via having them as something full on prisoners wore.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the final chapter for the NaMoWriZo run. When you get to the end, you'll probably realize why this was a good place to pause at. Also, this had some tiny (but inconsequential) edits when I re-did the last chapter.
> 
> Ideally, if I can start releasing proofed chapters once per week (maybe starting on the 6th), I'll be able to start releasing new ones mid-february. Depending on what the NaMoWriZo judges want, I may not re-upload the A03 chapters at first. However, after updating chapter 1 of the fan-fic version, I should be releasing fresh chapters each week. Plot wise, nothing should change. It'll just be grammar and spelling.

**Chapter 10:**

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

I understand that those are the worst prisons in Mammalia. The ones that make me feel ashamed to have the ability to produce milk or give birth to live children. Ones where oversight is non-existent, and violence and subjugation is rife.

But Nick is being held in Zootopia.

Not the topmost tier for ‘inclusion’, obviously. But up there.

Any idea how one of their prisons would operate. Would it be nearly that bad?

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

From my research it isn’t.

But they get creative.

In a lot of cases, they focus on the petty things.

Small changes and features which are meant to spoil your day or leave you that little bit irritated or humiliated.

From encouraging bullying, to colder than normal showers, to sleep and exercise schedules designed to make the inmates tired and irritable.

You are not seen as something broken that needs fixing.

While I understand the basic reflex to punish, to seek vengeance, I despise the pettiness this manifests itself in.

Small changes.

Small attacks and wounding.

All designed to slowly chip you down and down and down.

Like a death by a thousand cuts.

I mean just look up the menu’s in these places. You’ll get a sense of what I mean.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Nick and the other prisoners walked forwards into a largish room. Tables and chairs had been placed down and Nick, shaking a bit on his feet, quickly found one. He jumped up and pulled himself in, wrapping his arms and feet up against himself, still shivering slightly from the cold shower.

The prisoners who had been behind them on the bus, and had been led through other processing streams, had already been there when they arrived, and looked far less worse for wear. All of them, just like those in his group, had been clipped, tagged and suited up. Maybe they’d just had more time to recover. To talk and actually feel like a real mammal. He and the others sat down on various tables, Nick making his way to one full of fellow preds, and, as the guards stood around the edges of the room and watched, they chatted to each other.

“So… You’re _the_ Nick Wilde?”

Nick looked up to his right, his eyes looking on at the young civet that had been behind him. They’d both sat down on the one table populated by predators, and a quick look around showed that all their eyes were on him.

“Yeah,” Nick said. “The one and only.”

“Cool,” the civet replied, smiling and softly punching Nick’s elbow. “At least you’re not in here for something dumb like I am.”

“Which is?”

“Partial grand theft auto…”

“Partial?”

The civet shrugged. “Elephant cars have big catalytic converters. I knew a scrap man who paid a lot of money for them. Worked for a time, paid well too. But my luck ran out. Here for five years, you?”

“Twenty,” Nick replied.

“Thirty,” a tiger from across the table replied. “Forty,” came a wolf, and soon came another barrage of sentences, more often than not the length of Nick’s one or longer.

Nick smiled as they began talking about what put them in the jail. All of them confessed to all or most of what they’d been sent in for, with some complaining that they’d also been roped in for minor crimes that some other mammal in their group had done. None of them claimed that they were innocent of everything, or even alluded to the idea.

“It seems we’re all happy about being guilty here,” Nick commented, before feeling a hard pat on his shoulder. He looked up and saw a badly cut up cheetah, in for assault and nip dealing, who had an odd grin on his face.

“Yeh. All guilty of bad stuff except for you. You’re guilty of good stuff,” he said. “That’s pretty neat in my book.”

“Neat, yes,” the young civet commented. “But it sucks to be in his shower line. The goat guard had a real can to chew with him.”

“Byron Caprey?” the cheetah asked, with both Nick and the civet nodding in response. The cheetah shook his head and grumbled. “He’s a clever piece of work, acts all nice in public and on camera, but then he… Urgh! That bastard gave me a few of these scars the last time I was in here. Seeing I was going to the yellow block, I was hoping that piece of filth had transferred or been fired. Still, it seems like he has a hate boner for you, so at least that’ll keep him occupied.”

“Oh joy,” Nick replied. He folded his arms down and rested the base of his muzzle onto them, his left ear flicking with irritation now and again. The pierced skin still throbbed, and the weight of the tracker tag was doing annoying things to his sense of balance.

 “Yep, for me it really will be,” the cheetah joked, leaning back and smiling.

…

“So, it isn’t your first time then,” Nick said. “Any tips. Any spoilers for what happens next?”

“They give you some food, the warden visits, then you’re led out in groups to your cells. This is probably the last time I’ll see you, and you’ll see all of us. So make the most of it, Slick.”

Nick chuckled, rolling his eyes. “The nickname… It seems you must now be my friend then.”

The cheetah’s eyes widened, and he stifled a giggle as his collar went up to orange. “A friend of the great Nick Wilde! This is better than my last stay already!”

“I am so happy for you,” Nick joked, before rising up as a trolley rolled passed. A tired looking rhino looked over, and reached down.

“Seven standard pred meals,” he said, “try to enjoy.”

Nick’s stomach rumbled as a bowl was placed down in front of him, only for his small grin to fade as he saw what was in it. Eyes widening, he looked up and down at it, and the contents of the other bowls, and felt sick.

“I presume this isn’t a joke,” he said.

The cheetah shook his head. “As if. This is pretty much lunch every day. I suppose it makes dinner seem good by comparison, which is a plus.”

“It can make anything look better,” Nick commented, grabbing a plastic spork and spooning up a pile of brown nuggets from his dish. “I mean, out of all the things we can eat, what’s worse than kibble?”

“I don’t know,” the cheetah shrugged, biting down on his own spoon full of the brown pebbles, grimacing slightly as he did so. “But I bet it would take some cud-chewer with too much time on his hooves to make that something.”

“Agreed,” Nick replied, wincing as he tried kibble for the first time. He grimaced, gagging slightly not so much at the taste, that of badly seasoned budget mealworms, but the texture, which was a mix between a damp sponge and a clump of dried clay.

“The trick isn’t to chew,” the young civet commented, picking up a glass of water and a pawful of the food. Dropping a few chunks into his mouth, he drank a swig of water and swallowed them like a pill. “At least, my mother used to say that.”

Nick nodded, and stuck the next set of food into his mouth. Taking a swig of water, he swallowed it down, and agreed that it was indeed better. “Thanks.”

“No worries.”

Nick turned back to his food, when he noticed a small plastic wrapped bar nearby. Grabbing it and feeling it in his paws, he smiled and unwrapped it, taking a bite.

The soft cutting and warm flavour of chocolate never came.

Instead it was a hideous chew, and a flow of acrid juices onto his tongue.

“Arghhh!” Nick cursed, gagging and spitting out the mouthful of chocolate imposter that he’d bitten into. He looked up to the cheetah, who had a sick grin on his muzzle, and scowled. “You could have warned me,” he muttered.

“Could have,” the cheetah said, bobbing his head innocently. “But I didn’t.”

“Very funny,” Nick grumbled, before looking back at the bar. “But that’s not. Remember what you said about some prey devising something worse…? That’s something worse… far worse.”

The cheetah cackled slightly. “I know.”

“But… who even came up with this monstrosity?” Nick pondered out loud. “This should be banned. It’s evil. I mean, it’s a raisin bar!”

“I can see that,” the cheetah said.

“Not a chocolate bar utterly ruined by raisins,” Nick carried on, “but a bar… ENTIRELY made of raisins. Compressed down… moulded… wrapped.” He slowly extended his paw to it, rubbing the end exploratorily before scowling and pulling it back, looking bitterly at the blunt stubs that remained of his claws.

“I can see that,” the cheetah said again.

“But… but… Why?” Nick stammered. “If this were a normal society, and I didn’t have a collar, I’d be on my knees screaming that out to the world! There is no god. There is no salvation. There is no sense of right or wrong or holy… This is a universe where a raisin bar exists… Some sick and depraved mind actually thought of this and created this. Mammals have to face their children, every day, knowing that they are creating these things. Forget about scientists asking if they could so much, they forgot to ask if they should… Even if you surgically remove someone’s entire sense of right and wrong, they’d still be able to know that that thing is… is… It’s a rutting raisin bar!”

 The civet next to Nick looked up at the exasperated fox, then down at the bar, then up at him again. “I… uh, I like raisins… Can I have your bar?”

Nick looked at him like he was the mucus thrown up by some abomination from the depths of the oceans, before silently sliding the bar over. “I know you’ve been nothing but nice,” he said, “but I currently hate your more than anyone else on earth. Including the mammal that put me in here, the prey inmate at the ZPD jail who half fixed me with two bricks and the guard who repeatedly shocked me with a collar remote and mutilated my tail.”

The civet merely shrugged. “You know, I can totally understand that. Now, anyone else not want their raisin bar?”

“I can’t help but think that these five years are going to fly by for you,” Nick joked, before looking back down at the table as five other bars were slid over to the civet.

“Maybe they don’t put in chocolate as… you know,” he said. “It can harm certain mammals…”

“Apparently, my grandparents committed suicide by chocolate,” Nick slowly said. “I’d need half a dozen bars of chocolate like that one to begin to feel ill…”

“Still,” the civet mused. “Better safe than sorry.”

…

“You understand that raisins are more poisonous to me than chocolate?” Nick said, grabbing his bar and holding it up next to him. “You know, I’d bet that this is well over my daily safe limit. In fact, three or four of these bars would probably kill me!”

“So?” another inmate, the wolf, asked.

“There is no universe in which this wasn’t given out to specifically screw with us,” Nick replied, holding the bar up and sniffing it. “Maybe I should take an advantage of this opportunity? Choke down a few bars… finish myself off… the joke would be on them then, wouldn’t it?”

…

“No,” the civet replied. “You’d be dead then. In any case, given what you mammals think of raisins, would you even be able to finish half a bar?”

Nick shook his head and held up the bar. Opening his mouth, he raised it up and prepared to bite down…

.

Prepared to bite down…

.

Prepared…

.

He sighed and placed it back down, shaking his head. “They’re right. Even the most depressed fox in the universe wouldn’t be able to scoff nearly enough of these down to have a chance at killing themselves. It’s fool proof.”

.

“And good news for me,” the civet replied. “Yum!”

Nick was about to make some snide remark back only for his, and everyone else’s, ears to rise as the whine of a microphone echoed out. Looking up at the cheetah, Nick turned his paws out, silently enquiring about what was going on.

The cheetah looked forward and huffed. “Welcome to your first ‘welcome to hell’ speech Slick. I’d wish for some popcorn, but it would likely be a raisin bucket instead…”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Holy…

I thought kibble was a myth!

And a raisin bar?

I’ve always campaigned against capital punishment, but I think that a dishonourable exception should be made for the madman who created that.

What happened next?

.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

What comes next?

.

The welcome to hell speech.

.

It’s not a trope.

It’s real.

The warden drops down to grace you with his presence.

The speech I most remember was more a hurricane of spit and screams, rather than anything coherent.

It doesn’t help that I wasn’t that well versed in the language.

Then again, I got some things.

A knee in the groin is fairly universal, is it not?

.

Again, the objective is to humiliate. To depress. To make you feel small and worthless and pointless. You’ve already been shaken down and your spirit somewhat shattered.

Many of them try to spin a thread of hope. A path to redemption. They exaggerate the difficulty and the pain. They make it seem like a road paved with razors that you must crawl along to have a hope of getting out.

Again, making you feel small.

Or, specifically, subservient.

They want you to crawl. They want to beg. They wanted to break you, and now that you are broken they want to build themselves up as this rock that you have to throw yourself at. Grip without thought. Hold on for dear life to as the storm rages around you.

The warden, and the authority, is all that matters. You are its slave. Its serf. Its servant and its worshiper.

I think they enjoy it. The power, the sight of seeing larger mammals than them, and far more dangerous ones, lay themselves out prostrate. It makes them feel big. Makes them feel strong and validated.

I think it makes them feel like predators.

Or, at least, what they think predators always feel like.

I don’t think there is a warden in the whole world who truly believes in redemption. In goodness. In kindness, rehabilitation, fairness, equality…

I think that the one Nick faced was probably the worst of the worst. He wouldn’t have bothered with talk about a path to salvation. He’d tell Nick straight up that he wanted him to suffer. To go mad. To feel pain and misery that would consume him years before his relief.

After all, given the length of time and dedication needed to get to that role, what kind of mammal would warden Nigel Erius truly be, other than some sadist?

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Nick and the others silently look on as a small group of guards marched out onto the stage. Rhino’s, Elephants, Hippo’s and a variety of other megafauna. He tilted his head somewhat, wondering where the warden actually was, until he spotted a large lectern being wheeled out. It was already confusing, and got far more so as he spotted two round grey furry ears emerge from over the edge of the moveable pulpit.

“I was no expecting that,” the civet muttered, while the cheetah had another grin on his muzzle.

“The plus side of going back into this block is I get to see your reaction when you see who the warden is,” he said.

The species of the warden revealed itself to the entire crowd, with even the hardened prey thugs whispering slightly at the sight. Rounded grey ears were perched on top of a rounded grey face. Two rounded and tired eyes, bloodshot with age, looked over them all and blinked. The nose that emerged from his brow was grey, and grew larger as it curled down to his mouth. It twitched and sniffed, while a semi-toothless jaw chewed imaginary leaves slowly but surely. Pulling out a small microphone with one of his small three fingered and double thumbed paws, he flicked it on with a claw and coughed, clearing his throat.

“I understand,” he said slowly, his outback accent very apparent. “I understand that this is not what many of you are expecting. You expected some hardened, tough and bitter old prey mammal. Someone, in appearance, like my guards… I am quite different.”

Nick nodded, unable to help himself thinking that the warden could say that again. Out of all the mammals he was expecting to own his tail, or what was left of it, for the next two decades, a Koala was not one of them.

“G’day... My name is Warden Nigel Erius,” he introduced. “I moved to Zootopia’s Outback Island, from a small village on the coast of Eastern Outback proper, when the Zootopia development corporation finished it over fifty years ago. I have seen and experienced a lot of things in my seventy years on this planet.”

There was a pause, a hinge of pain and regret coming into his voice, though he carried on regardless. “A lot of things I will not talk about, bar the fact that they gave me a unique perspective. I know what it is like to be under the control of evil… others. To be at their mercy. To be subjected to their humiliation, and their sadism. I entered the prison services because I believed that these could be a place for change and improvement. For redemption. And not a place for needless cruelty and hatred, like that I suffered.”

Nick blinked a few times, looking at the warden and then back at Caprey. He squinted harshly, scoffing slightly at the words being spoken out. The warden carried on regardless.

“If you have worries. Come to me. Speak to me. Let me help you. I make no mistake of ignoring the fact that some of you will be in here for crimes that you did not commit. If you are willing to explain yourselves, I see no issue in giving you the resources that I can to pursue the proof of your innocence. Many of you are in here for crimes you committed due to it being the best way for you to make a living. Talk to me, and I can offer you an education. A chance to improve. Some of you will be in for truly evil things, and if I have the time I am happy to talk to you about them. Sometimes… oh-so very rarely, someone is in here for a good thing they did…”

Nick bit his lip slightly as he noticed an unusual number of eyes turning, training themselves onto him. He looked up at the warden, who’s eyes were trained down on his lectern. He picked up a sheet of paper with one paw and turned it over, before looking up again.

“If you are one of those, and we speak, I may just grow to call you a friend in the future.”

“Let’s see,” Nick whispered, as a scowl appeared on the warden’s muzzle.

“I will, however, not let my kindness be taken advantage on,” he warned. “Many of you will beg of your terrible lives and abuse… but I will slice through any lies to the truth like a hot knife through vegemite. I have seen shit that some of you c---s can’t imagine! Come to me with your tragic backstory? I’ll listen to it, but if you want to use it like a crutch, rather than learning to use your legs, I’ll kick it out from beneath you and let you crawl on your own path to redemption. I may be old, but I am not a fool. Treat me as such, and any help coming from me will be gone. Just remember who’s holding out the eucalyptus branch here, you all got that?”

“Yes sir,” the crowd murmured in agreement.

Nigel nodded, smiled, and spoke. “Good. Then, I hope the rest of this day goes smoothly for you. You’ll all be rough, shaken up. Many by rules and regulations that I have objected to, but am forced to comply with. Some of you, I don’t doubt, deserve said regulations but didn’t receive them… such is the unfairness of this world. Regardless, I’ll leave it to my chief guard, Byron Caprey, to show you to your cells. I have… paperwork, and other things, to deal with. I wish you all a good rest. You have a long road to redemption starting tomorrow, so you’ll need it.”

He shuffled his papers and stepped backward, his microphone catching the odd groan as he lowered himself. Nick, those at his table, the other prisoners and even the guards watched on in awkward silence as he reached the stage bottom, before turning to make his way out. Peering over, Nick saw him walk off, with slumped shoulders and a stop-start gait, and then out a waiting door.

Caprey looked left and right, trotted over to the door, and tested the handle.

He grinned slightly, as did several other guards, before marching back to the centre stage. He grabbed Warden Erius’ lectern and pushed it harshly off to the side, grabbing the microphone as it rolled away. Hitting it a few times with his hoof and checking it, he chuckled his angry laugh and spoke up.

“Ther w _aaa_ ’rden, folks…” he announced. “What a load of trash… I bet he has some racoon in him!”

Several of the other guards looked away, while others grinned too. Nick felt his ears droop down, knowing that he was about to get caught in the strings that were attached to the hope that the warden had given him.

“I bet he thinks he’s sooo…. Sooo…. Gooood! ‘Cause he spent a few years in a juvie or something! Well, he can drop the c word all he wants, he’s still a yellow bellied coward! He offers you hope! He needs to be in charge to do that…”

“He’s the warden though…” someone said. Nick looked over to another table, where an antelope of some kind already seemed to be regretting his mistake. Caprey turned to look at him, and waved to some of the guards behind him. A few loyal ones marched out, and grabbed the hands the inmate had raised. They dragged him forward, up to the edge of the stage, where he looked up at Caprey like a drowning mammal would at someone holding a life preserver.

“Make… No…. Mistake…” the goat growled, before delivering a sharp kick to the antelope’s head. Everyone flinched back at the sound of bone snapping, as the larger mammal was knocked out cold. Caprey shook his head and waved down, watching as his victim dropped into a pile on the floor. He turned up, grabbed his microphone and bellowed out. “Tha’ w _aaa_ ’rden will believe it was a fall tha’ did tha’! Why? ‘Cause he’s a senile old fool who believes in ‘the goodness of the soul’,” he preached, his drawling accent cutting off for the last bit as he badly imitated the warden’s own outback tang. “I am the one who runs ther show and what I say goes! You filth learn this now. I AM YOUR GOD! Wha… am I?”

“Our god,” Nick, and everyone else parroted back.

Caprey snorted, and scanned around, his eyes landing on the pred table. “N _aaaa_ ’ good enough…” he half snarled, half bleated. “’Specially from ther chomper filth!”

He pulled out his collar remote, and Nick and the others flinched, knowing what was coming.

They were still not ready for it when it came.

A flash of lightning through their necks, they bent down and held in their screams as the shocks surged through them. Nick convulsed over, only realising that his muzzle was buried in his kibble bowl when the shock ended and he opened his eyes. Slowly sitting up, he blinked, rubbing off some of the ‘food’ that had stuck to his fur. He looked around at the others, all shocked, none more so than the cheetah.

Caprey laughed. He laughed so hard and long he bent over, hoofs on knees, and breathed in just so he could laugh some more. Nick gulped as he finished, and spoke out.

“Unlike ther chomper lover warden, I want you filth to know yer place! Even the biggest scum prey deserve far less than that! You’ll lick my ass clean unless I tell yer not too! Tha’s yer place. I’ll make yer learn it scum. ‘Specially tha’ pelt there…”

Nick looked up at Caprey and their eyes locked for a second, before the goat turned away from him. Motioning to a guard with a clipboard, he began speaking in a far more formal tone, even going as far to mostly suppress his accent.

“We will call out yer number! You’ll be escorted, in silence, to yer cellblock and cell. First batch?”

The guard called out a set of eight numbers, and eight mammals stood up. Nick, doublechecking his number, stayed down as he watched them march out the door. Another eight mammals, Nick and six of the predators stayed down, though a burly badger stood up and walked out. Now six, all prey. It carried on again and again and again. Finally, nine mammals were left.

Six prey and three preds.

Nick, the cheetah and the civet.

Nick heard their numbers being called out, and waved goodbye as they, and the other prey, were led off.

.

It was just Nick and half a dozen remaining guards. Five of them were the ones who’d grinned the most as they watched Caprey shout and bully. The final one was the goat himself, who shook his head as he walked up to Nick. “Just you ‘un me, pelt!” he said, grabbing his truncheon and beating it into his hoof menacingly.

Nick closed his eyes and breathed in and out.

His collar was orange.

Caprey slowly began to move around Nick. Carefully circling, eyes always fixed on him. A grin when he shot a glimpse at the ruin of Nick’s tail, or other cuts from his previous work. He slowly got closer, the beating of his truncheon getting harder and faster.

Nick gulped as he stopped, extending it out to lightly touch the tip of the fox’s chin.

“There are so many ways I could hurt you,” he snarled. “So many, but all ways ther fool of a w _aaa_ ’rden might pick up on… I have other plans fer you, though. A surprise, fer later, and something I think will really hurt yer right now…” He looked over at another guard, a burly ram, and waved him forward.

“My names Ramched,” he said. “Do you know where I used to work?”

“No,” Nick replied, immediately winching as Caprey whacked him hard in the gut.

Ramched didn’t give him time to respond, instead walking forward and grabbing his muzzle tight. He pulled it up and looked deep into his eyes. Sheep met fox and fox met sheep, and the sheep spoke. “The ultimate security section. Do you know how many inmates are housed there?”

Nick shook his head, unable to say anything as the vice like grip on his mouth tightened.

“Just over a hundred,” the ram said, “including forty or so preds, in there for collar key theft…”

Nick’s ears dropped, his eyes widening as his collar went up to red. His legs kicking out, he fell down into his chair, Ramched throwing his muzzle down onto the table as he did so. His head slammed into its edge, and he shook it as he recovered, Caprey laughing.

“I think ther pelt is getting it!”

“You were clever, what with your medical license loophole,” Ramched said. “Cleverer than your dumb rutting parents. Trying to steal it to go on their rampage…”

“Tell him about the f _aaa_ ’ther!”

“Your dad couldn’t cope you know,” the ram teased.

Nick tried to turn to face him, only to feel hard hooves plant down on him and force his head back down onto the table. His teeth gritted, his collar beginning to fizzle as he barely kept himself contained, he listened on, unable not to.

“I think his faulty genes… and his savage urges… they built up. They bubbled to the surface, till he started biting! Not the guards though, we were too careful for that to happen. He was so hungry for flesh he began to eat himself! Biting and chewing, and trying to do so even when fellow guards tried to restrain him.  His arms looked like the moon, bare and raw and covered in scars. He was in a muzzle for years, before he ‘recovered’. A muzzle, and a straightjacket, and tied down tight to a gurney, legs, arms chest and all. Of course, he couldn’t use a toilet like that or eat, so three times a day someone like me was in to change him and force some food down his gullet. I was even shaving his ass, before we just used a UV light to remove the fur around there permanently. And how he acted… Twitching and groaning and faking his tears. Trying to chomp on anything, and getting shocked and shocked and shocked for his trouble…”

Ramched paused, laughing as he pointed down at Nick. “Just like you, now! Like father, like son!”

Looking up, his neck screaming in pain and his vision clouded in tears, Nick spat out a response. “Lies…”

The ram paused.

“We wanted to run away…” Nick said, sobbing slightly. “To escape mammals like you. To live our lives alone and free… He was the kindest, greatest mammal I knew. And don’t you dare try and foul his memory. And don’t you dare make up lies about how he’s doing to hurt me.”

Nick winced as he saw Caprey raise up his truncheon, but the hit never came. Opening his eyes, he saw Ramched holding his hoof out to stop him. The ram smiled slightly, walking back up to Nick. “I heard he relapsed recently. He’d been doing so well he’d been back in a normal cell for a few years, with a bed and toilet and everything. They’d given him books, and a TV. Apparently, it wasn’t long after your arrest, he started biting and chewing and gnawing… I’d transferred out of there a long while back, but I still have a few friends there. I have a present for you…”

As he said it, he brought out a small plastic bag with red and grey fur clippings inside. Opening it up, he pushed it over Nick’s nose and watched as the fox sniffed it in.

His collar went red, and he shook as a shock washed over him.

“’Nuff of all tha’,” Caprey slurred. “Get him up. I wanna show him his new home.”

Hooves pulling him up, Nick stumbled onto his feet and began marching forward with his entourage. His feet went in front of each other mindlessly, as his mind was elsewhere. The smell of the fur kept on replaying on and on in his mind, as he tried to keep it fresh in his memory. It slipped out like sand in his paws, slowly loosing focus and definition, and he wished he could keep them. Smell them. Analyse them.

He was thinking back to the precious memories he had of his youth. Of the warm and smiling memory of his father. Trying to remember what he smelled like, and match it to the smell in the fur. His memory of his father was weak, his memory of his scent far worse. The fur had smelt of generic fox more than anything, with a stench of pain and sorrow and age and grief. It had smelt like a dead fox walking.

But there was a terrible hint, a whisper in a loud room, of something familiar. Something beautiful.

It could just be from any fox.

It could be from his father.

The possibility of the latter, and the possibility that parts of what the ram had said was true, gnawed at him painfully as they carried on down corridor and corridor.

Ever onwards, towards the cellblock.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com

.

There is one more thing Melony.

The guards can be hell. The warden can be hell…

But fellow prisoners, the ones who know more about what you’re going through than anyone else, can absolutely redefine what hell is.

You’re in constant contact with them, and if they choose to lessen the pain of their stay by establishing dominance over you then there’s little to nothing you can do about it.

I’ve long campaigned for strict sized based prisoner segregation because of the damage that larger prisoners can do to smaller ones. They draw a line using their size and physical imposition trapping you within.

Then they chisel away at your sanity and self-worth bit by bit by bit.

Resistance is futile. Standing up for yourself is impossible. You breaking under their will is inevitable.

You’ll lose yourself to them and it’ll take a miracle to put yourself back together, even after they’ve left.

From his letters, and what we’ve tracked down, Nicholas Wilde went through this. The guards, currying favour and tweaking with records, were able to find the one mammal who would cause Nick more harm and pain and suffering than any other, and place them together in a cell. This was not a mere accident. This was deliberate and cruel beyond belief.

In his letters he talks about how he was broken and force to accept the cruelty and chains of the prey oppression, for a while almost learning to love them.

I just wonder how badly he was shocked when he learned who he’d be bunking with.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Stepping out into a cell block, Nick looked up and gulped. It was tall and thin, widest behind him and narrow at the far end, where a tall window let in light from the internal exercise yard. A large control and observation tower stood there, looking out at the tiers of cell blocks on either side. They rose up in four or so levels, one above the other, their access terraces sealed off from the central void via metal grating. Nick noted that that must be to keep the prisoners from jumping off, while letting tranquiliser darts and bullets in.

“I’ve got a surprise fer you…” Caprey said, chuckling cruelly.

Nick stayed silent as they reached one of the staircases. Walking up it, they began pacing the tiers of cells. Heavy steel doors remained open, but the inmates were locked in still via the transparent plastic doors. They looked out, eyes focussing on them. Green lights of collars seemed to shine out of far more doors than Nick had expected from his intakes distribution, which had been roughly in line with the general population. Carrying up another flight of stairs and turning off it, Nick guessed that, being preds, they all got longer sentences than their prey counterparts. Still, prey outnumbered preds five to one here and with men like Caprey in charge, Nick knew where the power really lay.

They halted next to a door and the goat, a sickening smile on his face, walked forward and knocked on the door. “Oh sweety,” he cooed, “guess what I’ve brought!”

Nick tilted his head as a figure lumbered to life on the bottom bunk of the cell, slowly rising up. He turned to face it, and he felt his body turn to ice.

“No…” he whispered, before falling to the ground, screaming as his collar shocked him, “NO!”

“Yes,” Caprey replied. “’E hasn’t taken ther chop yet, so he’s staying here… Lucky you!”

Nick’s back hit the railing, though his legs still tried to scramble backwards. His bottom lip trembling, arms shaking, he spasmed to the ground as another shock hit him. “No…” he cried, tears of fear beginning to flow from his eyes.

Caprey motioned to two of his fellow guards, who picked Nick up, one arm each. He began begging and pleading, scrabbling backwards as he did so. His collar triggered again, and again, but it had no effect.  “Pleeeassse…. I’ll do anything! I’ll…”

Shut off by another shock, the fox was dragged forward, wailing like a kit as the door to his cell was opened. He was thrown in, landing hard on his muzzle. He fought through the pain of his landing, getting up and turning, racing towards the door. He leapt into it, only to bounce off painfully.

Back up, he pounded and pounded, crying and shocking himself until he collapsed into a defeated, sobbing heap on the ground.

He didn’t notice as a huge hand knelt down and grabbed his tail, before tightly pulling back. He still cried as he was lifted off the floor, only noticing what else was going on when a face that would haunt him for the rest of his life appeared, upside down in his vision. He looked on at it, feeling terrified and sick and absolutely at its mercy.

It just smiled, the movement curling its wrinkle grey skin upwards and lifting her horn, before speaking in a voice similar to a little girl being reunited with a beloved doll.

“GEORGINA!”

 

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It finally returns. (Outline of the plot so far included in notes).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while....
> 
> Sorry about that.
> 
> I initially predicted that this fic might be back by mid-february. It's now mid-April, so I was two months out. In that time I did a oneshot collection called Christmas Carols, did some major rereading and editing for Zootopia: the original plot, and have prepared a 16,000 word+ review talking about the faults of Take a stand: Stars of Ceartais. I've also finally got around to publishing a story that I've had lying around for ages, Evacuated. There'll be at least eight or so chapters which'll be released every Tuesday.
> 
> The good news is that I've also re-read and edited the previous ten chapters of this fic, with help from my new proofreader ComatEngineer (who'll also help with the rest of this fic). Even better, I have all the first drafts chapters for this fic (right until the end) done, meaning there should be no delays in releasing one every Wednesday. 
> 
> In terms of re-reads/ edits, chapter 9 was done very soon after released, while in this latest set chapter 3 and 7 also had a lot of work done (to minimise a certain running joke/ backstory that, in hindsight, didn't really work). You don't need to re-read them though, for the benefit of those who've forgotten the plot, I'll do a quick summary of the story so far.
> 
> In Zootopia the original plot, Nick Wilde and his three friends set up Wilde Times, a Pred only amusement park. Part of his motivation for this is to honour his parents, his father especially, who were arrested for plotting to steal a collar key and sentenced to life in solitary confinement. Nick hasn't seen them since they were led away, when he was just eight. Things go wrong, however, when a mysterious wolf, 'Lupus Savage', dart's one of Nick's workers with a savage serum and knocks our fox out with Fox-Rep. He's arrested, spends a night in a cell with a rather unhinged Rhino, before being interrogated by Judy Hopps.
> 
> This is where the story of Alriac diverges. Nick doesn't escape, and the interview concludes with Judy saying that she will try to investigate the case and not write him off just yet. Sadly, the Rhino from before injures Nick in a rather sensitive area and he's sent to hospital. Judy, investigating the case further, tracks the wolf's car to a sheep's apartment, where there's clear evidence that Nick was set up. She tells Nick this, but they soon learn that the powers that be plan to try him anyway (in effect on technicalities). Taking this personally, Nick denounces his trial as a kangaroo court, while railing against the collar system.
> 
> Meanwhile, his actions have stirred unrest inside and out of Zootopia. Melony, an anti-collar activist, and her boyfriend Gregory 'Grima' Huvertung are reporting on this. Melony is with Gazelle on the night of the Animalia concert, where they take a stand in support of Nick. The wolf, however, has other plans and tries to turn her backup dancers savage. The diva and her crew prepared for this, but it tragically backfires when a missed shot hits her. Turned savage, she leaps from the stage and is mortally wounded, dying later that night. In the panic, Madge Badger, Fenrick Ibn-Zerdain and Tariq Ibn-Zerdain (Honey's sister, and Finnick's brothers) put into action a plan to rescue their fugitive siblings and Clawhauser from Honey's bunker. They smuggle the three to the Reptoslav embassy, where they're granted political asylum (a-la Julian Assange or John A Zoidberg).
> 
> Despite this, Nick is found guilty of one of his charges, and sentenced to twenty years in jail. He has a brief heart to heart with Cherifa, Finnick's mother (and his adoptive one), before being bussed off, despite the actions of protesters. Arriving at the Zoo, he's given a rough intake by the guard Byron Caprey. The warden, a Koala of all mammals, seems much more civilised, but Caprey soon makes it clear who really runs the show. He and another guard taunt Nick, saying that his imprisoned father suffered a mental breakdown and serious episodes of self-harm, relapsing badly after Nick was arrested. Finally, they show him to his cell where Nick is terrified to learn that his new cellmate is none other than the Rhino who totalled his Tod tools earlier on.
> 
> And what next...
> 
> Well, you're about to find out.
> 
> Feel free to comment and ask questions. I'll try to answer them.

**Chapter 11.**

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The sun had set outside, darkness filling the towering mass of the cell block's sole window. A faint glow came through it, ghost light from the many similar blocks which all faced out onto the internal yard. However much light it was though, it was swamped out by the paltry offering coming from inside the great hall.

A control room up above the window, four stories above the floor below and giving off a moody yellow, did most of the work.

There was also the odd twinkle of emergency lighting and the little specks coming from fire alarms or cameras.

Green pinprick lights too, present in the occasional cell, could be seen.

They joined together into a low and misty glow that permeated throughout the great and empty hall, bright enough to let the odd guard wandering about see things even without the help of the torches that they carried. They used them anyway though. The harsher beams that they cast scanned and probed, lighting up the caged in balconies and staircases, along with the locked plastic doors behind them.

Passing through the ground floor, past tables and chairs that were stored away, a lone moose guard noticed his torch flicker. Turning it off, he untwisted the end and slipped out the batteries, fidgeting about as he put them back in. Pressing his hoof onto the button, he grunted as no light came out and huffed as he turned back to the control room to get some spares. Walking up one of the stairways on one side of the hall, he looked over to the right-hand side and saw the specks of green coming out from dozens of cells over there.

His ears flickered, and he turned back forward, before quickly looking back to the right again. Moving his hoof up, he wiggled his glasses and focused closer, grumbling as he did so. An orange light, shining out alone. He grumbled again and began making his way over, pulling out a clipboard as he did so. The odd flip of a paper, before he groaned and pulled it right up next to his eyes.

"Of course, it's you," he muttered, his pupils carefully scanning the words in the darkness. Coming up to the offending room, he looked in, spotting a hulking mass with an orange light shining out from its centre. He cursed, before hitting the door with his truncheon hard, noting as the orange light flickered but the mass it was in stayed still.

"New here?"

The question hung in the air, no sound coming back. However, the guard watched as the light slowly moved up and down.

"It's no use nodding. Yes or no?"

.

"…Yes," came a weak reply.

"Only excuse I can think for your kind to have an orange light at two in the morning," the guard commented. "Bar being put in with him that is, hold on."

There was a harder set of bangs, as well as a yell. "Wake up you!"

A snort and a mumble, and a louder voice spoke out. "Why are you waking up me and Georgina?"

"Georgina…?"

"Yeah, that's…"

"No," the guard interrupted harshly. "Put whoever that is down, and leave him alone. You got that?"

The rhino mumbled back a response, before flinching at the sound of a hoof on a steel grating.

"I asked, you got that?" the guard asked again.

"Yes," the Rhino mumbled, turning away once more.

…

"PUT HIM DOWN, NOW," the guard shouted, twitching slightly as he heard groans come from other cells nearby.

"I think he…" she slowly began, only to scoot back as she heard the rattle of keys being fitted into a lock.

"Now," the guard began, "you are going to put him down before I have to come in here and make you. You do not want that, do you?"

"No, sir," the rhino whispered, shifting and moving as she did so. The guard watched as she lifted the figure, a sullen yelp coming from him and his collar going red as it gave him a short shock, before placing him down on the top bunk.

"Close enough," the guard moaned, before turning away, mumbling as he went. "I'm not payed enough to deal with this crap. You belong in a straightjacket in an asylum, not here…"

.

Back in the cell, the figure on the top bunk panted in and out, slowly curling itself up tighter and tighter, a paw fixed to the nape of his neck. His eyelids were heavy though and, despite his panic, he quickly felt blessed sleep begin to finally come.

Then he felt a tight grip on the ruin of his tail, and whimpered.

"Georgina, why did you make your naughty light go off?"

His ears folding down at the hint of malice in the voice, Nick closed his eyes and spoke out. "Because I don't like it when my evening consists of you crushing my bones and then scruffing me! I am not a baby!"

As soon as the words left his mouth, Nick felt a heavy grip come in from his side, pinning him against the hulking mass of his tormentor.

"Don't speak back to mommy like that, Georgina!" she hissed, before her voice turned sickly sweet. "And you are a baby, my baby! That means I get to scruff you and carry you as much as I want! Forever and ever and ever…"

Nick gulped as he felt himself being carried down to the lower bunk and getting pinned onto the rhino's lap. He braced himself, ready for another bone-breaking 'petting session', only for his eyes to open in alarm as he felt his tail getting lifted up. He squirmed in place, only to get pinned down tighter.

"Stay still Georgina!" his captor hissed, "bad pets like you deserve a punishment. This hurts me a lot more than it hurts you, you know?"

Nick gave up his struggle, and just collapsed as Lenora raised her other hand to make ready of her threat.

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Up in the control room, high up and above the cell block like the bridge of a ship, a tired beaver was busy chewing on a stick of wood. Leaning back in his office chair, webbed feet on the metal control board, he let his eyes idly scan from camera feed to camera feed, barely paying attention to any of them. As he did so, he heard the clinking of a key in a lock as the door in was opened. He heard hooves coming in, before the door slammed shut hard.

"Got your antlers in a twist David?" he mused.

"You don't know the half of it Ray," the moose guard, who had just entered, replied. He walked past the beaver and quickly slipped the dead batteries out of his torch, swapping them for ones waiting in the charger. As he fed the new ones in and screwed the torch back together, the beaver gave a cursory glance over his shoulder before sniggering.

"What?" the larger guard asked.

"Oh," the beaver said with a shrug, before moving over to pick up a clipboard. "I was looking through the fish of the day, and guess who we're looking after."

"No idea."

"Nope! Nicholas frickin' Wilde!"

"The Wild Times Fox?" the moose said out loud, his ears perking up as he did so. He turned and wandered over, taking out his own clipboard and filtering through it. "Well I never," he began, "and… Oh!"

"Yeah. Oh!" the smaller of the two announced, grinning as he did so. "I mean, I'm almost thinking that that's cruel! I heard that she broke a different foxes dick while at the ZPD!"

"Ray," the moose said slowly. "He's the reason I came in with that mood."

"It's a she," came a quiet suggestion, which was quickly cut off.

"I don't care how much crap you stick in your veins," the moose groaned, sitting down and rubbing his temples as he did so. "Also, the fact remains that he's got the most man parts in that cell."

"Wha…"

"You said she broke a fox's dick, right?"

"Right."

"Well," the larger guard continued, "Byron frickin' Caprey was cheering on ages ago about how someone had tried to fix 'that rebel fox scum' the old fashioned way, and had rid him of one ball and his baculum in the process. I remember reading in the papers about how Wilde had to be taken to the hospital for 'injuries sustained at the hands of other prisoners' before his trial. And now, those two are in the same cell, but I bet you it's not the first time they met."

The beaver looked on wide eyed, before turning back to his clipboard. "Now that's definitely cruel. Who even put him in there?"

"Take a gander," David suggested, as he reached for a can of cherry cola.

"No thanks," the beaver frowned. "I've heard they're all hooligans. Seriously though, no idea."

"Really?" the moose said. "It's gonna be Caprey. He's the head guard and in charge of this block for god's sake, and a raging pred hater to boot. It's obvious."

The Beaver's eyes went wide with confusion, and he squinted at his colleague. "Wait, are we talking about the same Byron Caprey here?"

"Yes, I…" came the reply, before trailing off. He waved his hand before carrying on. "No, wait. You've probably never seen his bad side."

"Bad side?"

"He's like Dr Jackal and Mr Hyde or something," the larger guard explained sternly. "You probably only know the Byron Caprey he shows to the camera's, newbies and warden. Two years in, I was like that. Then I did a cell inspection with him and watched as he nearly beat an otter to a pulp. Said he sniffed at him aggressively."

"Seriously?" the beaver, eyes wide and gawking, said.

"Seriously," the moose confirmed.

"And so, he put the Wild Times fox in with that mad rhino who half fixed him! That also begs a serious question."

"Which is?"

"Who even is the most 'man' in there?" The smaller guard paused as his question hung in the air.

"I really don't know," came the reply. "It's like debating whether Steve Prongs would prefer one of his computers loaded up with win-does, or a pc loaded up with his operating system."

The beaver, Ray, shook his head before carrying on. "Why can't it be simple. Why can't girls be girls and boys be boys? It's a mixed up, muddled up, shook up world, that's for sure!" Finishing with a dash of sarcasm, he settled back down into his chair and gave a short shrug. "Heh… 'Cept for 'Lenora'… L… EN… OR… RA… Lenora…"

"Well, I'm not the world's most masculine man. But I know what I am, and I'm glad I'm a man, and so is Lenora," David almost sung out in response, taking another big gulp of cherry cola at the end of it. "And besides, not much we can do, is there? Unless she takes the other one or something…"

"So what? We're gonna leave him in there?" the beaver asked. "I mean, he's a nasty piece of work no doubt but surely we should be reserving  _that_  for child molesters or something?"

"It's not as if we can do anything?" the moose sighed. "The only one to overrule Caprey is the warden, and Caprey has more wool over his eyes than a sheep with a stupid head floof!"

The question hung in the air as the two sat or stood in silence. The moose moved around a bit and tilted his head, almost as if he were trying to get a view into the cell in question. Looking up, he grumbled at the screens, showing empty corridor after empty corridor and only the clipped edges of other rooms.

…

"You know," Ray suggested. "I know someone who would be very interesting in this." He smiled, before leaning down and picking up the phone on his desk. Claws came out and rapped at the numbers on the speed dial, before a ringing tone filled the air. Smirking, the beaver picked up the headset and placed it against his ear, turning to his companion and wiggling his eyebrows as the other end was picked up.

"Stab, sick or a special?" came the tired voice from the other end, quickly followed by a long yawn.

"An extra special, nursey!" Ray teased, smiling as he heard a grunt from the other side.

"Please don't call me that Ray," she sighed. "At the very least, I am a vet, you know? I worked for that, tooth and claw, and…"

"So, it was easy as nothing for you then!" Ray interrupted. His eyes were wide, and he sniggered slightly as he thought he made out a face palm from the other end.

"Oh, the old ones are the best…" came the sarcastic reply. "Now, do you have something to tell me or what?"

"Something indeed," the beaver began. "And it concerns our favourite inmate."

"Yeah," the moose officer piped in. "The one who I wish you'd sign off for the Honey Sugarman treatment."

…

"David?" asked the stern voice from the other end.

"Yes?"

"One of these days I'm not going to bother informing you of both the tastelessness of that little historical reference, as well as the horror of what it actually entails. But I want you to get it into your head that, firstly, that tragic break of the Hippocratic oath is completely surpassed by modern techniques and is thus the equivalent of prescribing a bloodletting or exorcism in terms of its redundancy. Secondly, despite however much we hate Lenora…"

"You mean Lenny," both Ray and David said together. They looked at each other and high fived, while the other end was silent.

A set of short and deep breaths came from the phone, and both of them could imagine the mammal on the other end pinching the bridge of her muzzle as she tried to calm herself down.

"We… no, you guys have to accept that you can't talk like that anymore. Neurological mutilation and personality erasure, along with your transphobia, is shockingly offensive. One of these days, I hope you understand that."

"Well, given that it's shockingly offensive, I'm certain you…" Ray began, only to flinch back as he heard the slam of the receiver being hung up on the other end. He stood there, motionless, bar the odd twitch of his whiskers every second or so. There was the clap of hooves on the floor, as David moved in front of him and picked up the phone, and Ray exited his temporary stupor.

"She really does have a short fuse, doesn't she?" he asked.

"Ray, you know how you looked at me like I was a dick for insisting Lenora was a man?" David calmly asked, as he traced down to find the right number.

"Yes."

David turned and looked sternly at Ray, whose mouth pulled up into a little 'O'. "Point taken," the beaver said, holding a finger up.

"Let me handle this," the moose instructed, as the phone dialled and was picked up on the other side. Before the person on the other side even had a moment to speak, he was speaking out and talking over her. "I apologise for our behaviour, in particular the bad joke my partner made at your expense."

"Apology noted," came the grumpy voice from the other end. "Now, do you have something important to tell me? Or has the string on your ball and cup game broken again?"

"Lenora has a new cellmate," David said.

"Okay," came the calm yet urgent voice from the other end, its owner verbally brainstorming out a plan. "This means we'll likely have crushing injuries as well as attempted slit wrists in the future. In addition, repeated self-inflicted head injuries, vocal chords being worn out… what mammal is this?"

"This is the bit that concerns you," Ray said. "It's none other than that Wild Times fox!"

Both guards were taken aback by the response. The phone made a clattering and banging sound, as if it had been dropped, while a cry, hiss and whimper filled the background. More rumbling came, as well as what sounded like cursing, before a voice filled the receiver again. "That's not funny guys!"

"It's true!" Ray insisted.

"You understand that that mammal attacked Nicholas Wilde!"

"Yeah," David replied, "and I bet you that's why Byron Caprey put them together."

No response came, instead there was a panicked set of breaths. Turning to the moose, Ray shrugged his shoulders, before both of them turned back to the phone.

"I-uh… Oh!" the panicked voice said, tripping over itself as it spoke. "You know what, Damien doesn't need to be here anymore! New medicine, new pain relief! I'll take him back to his cell right now! See you guys soon!"

"Uh…" the moose said, before blinking as he was spoken to again.

"No need to object! He's nocturnal! Hooray! Happy to go for a transfer. I… Hey Damien, did you know that Nicholas Wilde is in Lenora's cell! Yes, she is the Rhino who attacked him in jail! Yes, you are well enough to go bad to your… thank you Damien. Don't worry guys, see you soon!"

The phone cut off, and both guards looked at each other speechlessly. They blinked, before walking away from each other, twiddling their thumbs and biding the awkward, silent, time.

.

It wasn't long before a beeping sound alerted both guards to a mammal present at the cell block entrance. Looking up at it, Ray's eyes widened as he saw the two figures waiting by the barred gates. "Shit, she wasn't joking," he muttered, as he felt David's hoof press down on the back of his chair. The moose leaned forward, stroking his chin as he watched them wait to be let in, green collar lights shining out.

"Better let them in," he huffed, stepping over to the controls and twisting the key to unlock the entrance. He watched them move past the first set of bars, and then closed them behind the two. Another push, and the inner ones were opening, letting the pair into the cellblock proper. Turning to the beaver, David unhook his keys from his belt and threw the over to Ray's desk. The smaller guard jolted up with a start, looking at the keys and then back at the moose that threw them, before shrugging. Slipping them onto his belt, he slid of his chair and pattered forwards.

"Which number is he?" Ray asked, just before he left.

David snorted, looking back. "Can't remember," he said.

Ray shook his head and made a detour to pick up a torch and a clipboard, before heading out. Down a short flight of steps and onto the top deck of the cell access terraces. Small webbed feet rapping against the metal grating, he quickly reached the nearest staircase and began descending. As he did so, the two figures made their way into the centre of the room. As he approached them, Ray noticed the taller one, clad in his yellow jumpsuit and with his paws cuffed behind his back, bend down to cough violently. Finally, onto the ground floor, a harsh torch beam lit him up, revealing the sickly looking red fox in all his non-existent glory.

"Easy on the eyes, flatfoot," he croaked, his voice worn and squeaky.

His face squinting up and a grumble in his throat, the beaver guard began marching towards him, only to stop when the fox began coughing again. Stepping back and shielding his eyes from the spray of spit, his anger abated somewhat, replaced with disgust. Wiping away the moisture from his face, as the fox who put it there toned down his hacking cough to a set of deep breaths, the beaver turned to face the mammal who brought him here in the first place.

"He doesn't look okay, and I'm not the one with a 'medical degree!'"

"This is fairly normal for Damien, if you remember," the vet assuaged back. "He has good days, bad days. Just ended some bad days, and he's ready to go back to his cell."

"Home sweet home matey," the fox sniggered back, "now with added throat lozenges."

Ray grumbled, and waved the pair on. "Lead the way," he ordered, as the two did as asked.

"So, matey…" Damien began, only to be cut off.

"Don't call me that," the beaver ordered, "and save your god damn breath for the stairs."

"Wouldn't 'av to if this prison gave me the proper stuff, y'know?"

"Filth like you don't deserve that," Ray growled. "Now shut your mouth and shut up. You hear?"

The fox stuck both thumbs, still locked behind his back, up and pointed them for the trailing guard to see.

"Good choice," he said, as they turned off and began walking down Damien's catwalk. Past cell after cell, some of them with shifting shapes or lights inside and some as still as the night.

"Ray," the vet said quietly. "Which cell was Lenora's again?"

"This one just up here," he said, noticing as both mammals in front of them turned their heads and slowed down somewhat as they passed it. Scowling slightly, he held out his torch and walked past the trailing tip of Damien's scraggly tail, prodding him with it in the back in order to push him along. Past the cell, and their pace picked up as they approached the end of the terrace. On the third last cell, they paused and turned, letting Ray pull out his clipboard. Scanning through the papers, he checked the name written on it against the number on the cell door. Nodding slightly, he pulled up his keys and pulled out the correct one. Placing it in, he opened the door before turning to the prisoner. Quickly unlocking the cuffs, he gave him a motivating jab with his torch, jolting him inside. The fox stretched up and yawned as he entered the empty room, wiggling his fingers about and swishing his tail happily.

"Your medicines," the vet quietly said, putting a container of lozenges and a bottle of a thick, syrupy liquid, inside the cell. She stepped back and stood silent as Ray stepped forward to close the door. It locked shut sharply, the clang ringing out and echoing through the hall. Subsiding, it was replaced by some deep breaths as the occupant skulked over to his bed and slipped under the covers.

"He's right you know, he should be getting the proper medicine…"

"If you ask me, that syrup and those sucky sweets are too good for him even now!" Ray huffed, turning on the spot and marching off.

"… It's nice to know you have sympathy for your fellow mammals in times of need," came the monotone and irritated response.

"Oh, come on!" the beaver said out loud, raising his voice enough to trigger mutters of anger from various cells. "Don't those foxes and stuff believe in karma? And here we are, with frickin' laser guided karma if ever I've seen it! I mean that's a Darwin-fox award level of gold right there!"

"Urgh," she groaned. "I so regret buying you that book for kitmas now, you know that?"

"Pah," the beaver joked, turning to face the following vet to give her a wink. "Best secret Santa present I ever received!"

The vet shook her head before stopping suddenly. Turning around, she faced the black wall of a closed cell, the lights off inside bar a flickering green glow.

"Oh, right," Ray said, seeing this and turning around to meet her. He held out his clipboard and flicked through it, before pointing at the details written down.

"You… you weren't trolling, were you?"

"No, not this time," Ray smiled. "But if you wanted an autograph or something, two in the morning really…"

He was cut off as his torch was snatched from him and pointed into the cell. It lit up the hulking figure of the rhino, wrapped up tightly, along with the figure squeezed uncomfortably under her chin. Though sleeping, he jostled and turned fretfully, while his face looked was painted with sadness and worry. He looked worse for wear than Damien had, and unlike that fox he was fit, young, and most decidedly not dying. The rhino stirred, and the light was quickly turned off as the warning beep of a collar going up to orange sounded out. The torch was quickly pushed back into the beaver's hands, and with the scurrying of paws he was left alone.

.

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* * *

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TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

.

Dear Mel.

I'm still not sure what exactly went on in there, or how he reacted to it. Putting him in with an inmate of poor mental (shall we say fortitude?), who has limited levels of moral judgement and is inadvertently a danger to others is bad enough. The fact that this was a mammal multiple size classes larger than him, and had previously assaulted him, makes it even worse. Then again, this was not a standard pred hater. It was someone with their own vulnerabilities and insecurities, manifested to extreme levels by the environment they were subjected to. While I reviewed the original case notes of her trial and understand why an insanity plea was rejected (the fact that she ultimately knew what she was doing was wrong, but chose to do it anyway for her pleasure, chief among them), my opinion remains that a secure mental facility would likely be the best solution.

Of course, this was not the case, and so we had her being batted around the prison system and coming into several fateful contacts with Wilde. While I do not deny that the relationship between them was (highly) abusive, it wasn't the traditional vile and hate that you usually see. I find myself curious to truly know what he felt during this time. How he coped with it. What is the precise truth behind the details and tribulations recorded in his letters.

There is certainly an attraction there. A dependency, if you will. I am no psychiatrist though, so can't delve deeply into it. On the other hand, from my (packaging tape wrapped) armchair I can theorise. While cliched, I think that some kind of Storkholm syndrome was going on.

Something snapped/ broke under that pressure. Something that, in some way, turned his oppressor into his saviour.

Knowing that this was an intelligent, emotional and independent person, this fate somehow seems the most tragic aspect of all of this.

Any thoughts Mel?

Love, Grima.

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* * *

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The morning light lit up the great hall.

It was still gloomy though.

Even though there was a twinkle of sharp light coming through, reflected off of the window of another cell block on the other side of the yard, it did nothing to lift the mood. The courtyard kept the sun out, instead keeping the area in a duller twilight as the morning shift came in.

A moose and a beaver left, stopping to inform their replacements of the changes that had gone on the night before. The larger of the two cautiously informed the goat who was leading the new crew, before saluting and marching off. The goat scowled slightly, before shaking his head. Looking down at the clipboard, then at the other guards in position, he nodded as a loud bell rang out three times. Pulling out his watch, he waited as the second hand made its way from the top of its path to the bottom, before putting it away. "O-pen  _uuuu_ 'p!" he shouted and bleated, his cry met with the sounds of the locks throughout the block jolting open. The creaks of hundreds of hinges followed, as did the sounds of footsteps. From small taps and clops, to room shaking thuds, the prisoners walked out and revealed themselves. On either side of him, the previously bare catwalks were now painted yellow from the uniforms of the assembled mammals. Scowling, he looked around a certain area, confused at first by then grinning widely as his eyes rested on their target.

"Attention all!" he announced. "We 'av a special new prisoner! You all here about ther fox who made ther chomper extremist training place? Who made a theme park about hunting an' murdering baby lambs and such? Who was taking collars off!"

He held back a bit, watching as well-trained faces stayed trained forwards, and well-trained lips stayed shut.

"Oh Len-ooor-aaa!" he called, looking up to a rhino who looked back, trembling slightly. "Wanna show everyone something special?"

Her trembles stopped and she smiled proudly. Quickly, she leant down and stoop up again, holding out Nick Wilde for all to see. Gripped by his scruff, something that made many of the assembled preds retreat back with shock, he dangled limply and still, his limbs and ruined tail swaying gently in the breeze. His tired, bloodshot eyes looked downwards, uncaring, while his ears flopped with no support. If he'd had an orange collar before, he didn't now, a defeated green light shining out. He looked less like a mammal, and more like a dirty plush.

Lifeless.

Uncaring.

Emotionless.

Even as the assembled crowd of mammals turned their eyes onto him and studied him. Any of the things he could still do now that he hung there paralysed, he didn't.

Byron Caprey looked up at him, then at the rest of his subjects. "I just thought yer guys would like ter know. You know. To keep yerself's safe an' all. Carry on."

He turned and began to make his way out, ears raising at the sudden wash of sound that broke over him. It had to be ten times what usually came, that was for sure. Walking out, he looked up to see Lenora stomp along above him, and he trembled with glee as he saw the fox beside her, walking along on all fours.

Turning forwards, he gazed over to a grate in the ground floor that was now being opened up, revealing the kitchen area and the waiting breakfast meals. Regular porridge, grass porridge, and a bug porridge, all ready. Turning his head and noticing the fruit portions, he scowled at how ripe they seemed, too good for the mammals they were bound for in his opinion.

Whatever he was thinking though was cut off as he felt something wet, nasty and liquid drop down on him. Looking up, he noticed some dampness hanging off the grating above him and, turning to face the mammals that were there a while ago, he saw them already far away. Paws tightening around his truncheon and his teeth beginning to grind together, he stepped forwards only for a fellow guard to step in front of him.

"Sir, we got a request from cell block D for your attendance. One of a deer's antlers has gone missing in the night, and they want our help to find it before we find it in someone's guts."

Caprey huffed, before shaking his head. "Tell them we're on our way."

The other guard nodded, before waving over several others. They and Caprey quickly left and were watched, unknown to them, by a sickly fox who wore an orange collar around his neck. As they vanished, the fox turned to look at the fellow member of his species, walking on all fours along the floor with a rhino never more than a step away from him. Her eyes were locked on him, and she continually chided or ordered or even touched him, managing him like her life depended on it. Looking closer, at the tail that made his one look like a luscious brush and the bags under his eyes that made him look wide awake, he felt a growl build up in him, along with the light but sharp pinch of an electric shock from his collar.

He stepped forwards, starting to march towards them, only to stop standing as a rhino leg planted itself in front of him. He paused, looking up at the staring megafauna.

"Don't you touch my little Georgina, you mangy flea ridden pest!" she snapped.

His fists balled up, only to release as he glanced down. His eyes caught those of Nick's, who shook his head, his eyes pleading at him as he did so.

Damien took a deep breath in and out, the airflow rattling his aching throat, before he turned and walked away.

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* * *

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TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

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Dear Grima.

.

I think a heavily imbalanced emotional state/ moral understanding would be the way I describe it. As for the whole jail vs asylum thing, I do feel deeply sorry for all those many, many, many, many, many, many, many rabbits (and the odd mouse), given their fate at her hands. However, a padded cell and (when needed) a straitjacket would have been better, particularly for those around her.

As for Wilde?

I think you underestimate him. What he went through is unforgivable, and likely traumatising. But I don't think that his essence or soul was ever corrupted or damaged.

Somehow, I think that he, at this hour of most need, chose to embrace the stereotypes that his species are so unfairly labelled with.

I think he played the long con. And damn, did he play it well.

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* * *

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Back in the cell, Nick lay on his stomach, eyes closed as he breathed in and out. A large hand ran along his spine heavily, its effect far more irritating than comforting. His tagged ear, still throbbing slightly, flickered and twitched, the yellow label on it catching the wind.

"Ooooh, I do love your ear thing Georgina," the Rhino cooed, "it means everyone knows who you are, and everyone will know that you belong to me! Isn't that lovely!"

Nick didn't reply, shutting out her voice instead.

His silence was short lived, as he felt the tag being gripped and pulled, sending a sharp stab of pain through him.

"Arghhh! Ehhh!" he cried, whining out.

Lenora paid him no mind, stopping as she brought the tag into the light and peered down. Squinting, her ears (one with its own tag on) folding back as she did so, she carefully looked at it. "Very pretty. You are the luckiest fox in the world, you know that?"

Any response Nick might have given was cut off by a set of hard head pats, pushing his head down onto the hard, lumpy and thin mattress. It didn't cut off his irritation though, and a beep sounded out as his collar went orange.

"You know what you need," she said. "Some exercise. The yard will be open now, so let's get some exercise!"

Standing up, she put an arm around Nick and pushed him off. Scrambling, he landed on all four feet and stayed there, meekly trotting after the rhino as he left. As he went, mammals all around him turned to stare. The other predators were silent, but almost all the prey began pointing and laughing. The only ones that didn't were ones with looks of hate on their face.

They travelled down to the ground floor of the cell block, and then out beneath the control room and window. The sun was well up now, but the inner courtyard of the complex was still shrouded in shadow. Its ground was dusty earth, almost sand, and most prisoners just stood around, wandering about aimlessly. Some were in a corner, exercising with weights or doing push ups, while a few leant on a chain-link fence, talking to prisoners kept in a different section.

The Rhino did neither of these, instead grabbing a dusty looking ball out of the ground and squeezing it. "Let's play fetch girl!" she said cheerily, before chucking it. "Fetch!"

Nick wearily trotted to where it had landed, holding it beneath one arm as he turned around and staggered back. Dropping the ball, his eyes widened as he felt his head being pushed down into the ground. The dust was kicked up, filling his nose and wiggling through his fur as Lenora screamed out. "PETS CARRY BALLS WITH THEIR TEETH! BAD GEORGINA!"

Feeling the crushing grip release, Nick watched as the filthy ball was thrown over, landing in yet more dust. Slowly, he went over to grab it, carefully balancing it on his teeth as he tried to avoid getting too much filth in his mouth. Dust still wafted onto his tongue though, the flavour and texture making him gag.

Turning around and making his way back, Nick looked up at the hideously sickly smile on the waiting rhino, and wanted to gag again.

That was cut off though, as he saw her eyes go wide with horror. He felt the ground tremble, starting to shake with the pound of heavy foot falls, and then he heard a furious scream.

"DIE CHOMPER SCUM!"

Looking up, he flinched as he saw an approaching zebra. Heavily muscled, in a jumpsuit that seemed too small for him, he was charging forwards with his limbs kicking and nostrils flared wide, a murderous fury in his face. Panic filled Nick and his body sprung into action, desperate to flee. He kicked off and tried to turn, only to feel the brutal kick of a hoof connect with his ribs, sending him flying.

The sound, though he didn't notice it, was like a cannon ball impacting in the ground.

Deep, dull, but with a powerful undertone that signalled the force of the impact.

The pain was brutal, and he was winded.

His vision shaking and control gone, feeling the agony was all he could do, dazed by it and the shock of the attack.

He didn't even register the that he was in the air.

Passing over the ground, he hit the chain-link fence of the yard hard, before crumpling into a dazed mass at its base. Feet splayed out into the sand, as did half his face. The other half was covered in kicked up dust, made worse as his limbs weakly crawled about, throwing more of it onto him.

Too shocked for his collar to even register a change, he looked up to see the striped mammal charge again. There were shouts and calls, guards running about and barking orders to stop. The zebra didn't care. He was racing forward like a freight train. Nothing could stop him. Trying to move, Nick found that he couldn't, his body not responding after the previous ordeal. The attacker was coming closer. Seconds away. Despite screaming at his limbs to move, it was like they were glued to the floor and, looking up, he gulped as he saw his death approaching.

He knew then, that this was it.

Dread took over, fear of the end the one thing he felt as his attacker filled his vision. For a split second, he felt young again, his neck free and bare. He remembered being on a train, and that ending. He remembered feeling the first shock of many, and seeing his father writhing on the ground. He flashed through classrooms and a room and then a terrible raining night. Through a new home and new family and his growth. Through hustles and factory work and building and running his dream and that dream dying.

He closed his eyes, the dread and panic and fear fading away, replaced with acceptance, and he waited.

He felt ready…

He felt the earth shake, and someone scream.

Opening his eyes, he saw the attacker pinned to the floor by a huge mass of grey. "I'LL KILL YOU!" it screamed, as it punched again and again and again, red joining the black and white stripes. Its struggle and screams died down, though its attack didn't, as Nick felt the shock leave him. He collapsed, breathing in and out deeply, as his mind kick back into function.

He yipped and screamed, falling to the floor as his collar shocked him. Falling to the floor and writhing about, dust kicked up and covering him, he recovered in time to see the guards arrive. Armed with noose-poles, tazers and truncheons, they pulled his defender off of his attacker and brought her to her knees.

Standing up, whimpering as he did so, he noticed a taser pointed at his chest.

"Calm down!" its yielder ordered.

Stepping back, panting as he did so, Nick put his paws on his head and sunk to his knees. Eyes welded his shut, he tilted his head up to expose his neck and gulped.

…

"Quit being so melodramatic," the guard chided, and Nick felt a hoof on his arm. Letting it be dragged away, he stood up as it was tugged. Daring to open his eyes, he followed wordlessly. "Let's go get you patched up," he was told.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

In addition, it's worth noting that, as said before, Nick was not alone.

While your diagnostic of the warden is quite different to what I've heard (we can discuss this later), he had, as I've said before, one crucial ally in there. It is without saying that this lifeline, this saviour, this gift of supreme coincidence, would have meant more to him than I can imagine.

One day, if you come over, I'll try to introduce you to her.

You'll like her, I'm sure of it.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Up in the prison medical ward, a vet waited by a boiling kettle. As it finished trembling and flicked off, she pulled it up and poured the water into a waiting mug. It mixed with the waiting teaspoon of instant coffee, before receiving a quick splash of milk. A fast stir, and the concoction was brought up and quickly chugged down. The vet slammed the mug down hard on the drainboard, before letting out a long and deep yawn.

"Last hour," she whined. "Last hour…"

Grumbling, she stepped out of the small break room and back along the ward. Some beds were out in the open, no different to a usual hospital, while others were behind plexiglass containers. Wandering on, she noticed mad glazes coming at her from some of them, but ignored them. Passed an empty bed, where she'd led a patient from last night, she entered her small office and collapsed, head resting on her arms.

A short yawn, her mouth opening and chewing on air, before her phone rung. Grumbling, she picked it up and spoke. "All day medical delivery service, what's your order?"

"It's you cutting out that damn sass, that's what!" shouted a voice from the other end.

"Hey Neil," she greeted. "If you're happy to do a weekly twelve-hour night shift, then the first six of your suddenly incumbered replacements, then it would be my pleasure."

"I don't know what idiot ever thought one of your kind could be a frickin' medic!" the other side curse, "but if it was up to me, you wouldn't have any shifts!"

"But it's not up to you," the vet said, pausing to let in a deep yawn. "Now, is there anything meaningful you want to say?"

"Hell-yeah there is! We've just had a fight in the yard. A zebra tried to attack the frickin' Wild-times fox, and got pummelled by a rhino instead!"

"Wait, what?" the vet said, gasping as she did so. Standing up, suddenly wide awake, she held onto the phone tightly.

"Yeah. We've got to reconstruct the zebra, and the fox is bruised up too from what I've seen. You better be ready!"

"Uh-right," she replied, before putting down the receiver. Jumping out, trying to keep herself calm, she raced along the ward towards the intake. "Doctor Korren?" she called out, as she passed a newly arrived red squirrel, already in his scrubs.

"What?" he asked.

"We got a zebra who was on the wrong side of a Rhino, and a bruised fox coming in. I'm in no state to do anything serious, so you grab some assistants and deal with the zebra."

The small rodent looked at her up and down for a bit. "Weren't you supposed to of been on your night shift last night?"

"I was on it," she muttered. "Fallow's father apparently had a fall, and he won't be in until lunch."

The squirrel grumbled slightly. "Point taken. I'll get Marty and Louis to help me with the big stuff, given I'm only good for the details on someone that sized."

"Sounds good," the vet called back, carrying on regardless. Down corridors, towards the bars that separate the medical wing from the rest of the prison. Already the gate was being closed, with the prisoners brought in. One, on a table, was the battered and bloodied zebra, slowly breathing and trembling, whining as he did so. The other, in a wheelchair, was Nick Wilde, paw on his chest and his body covered in filth.

"I'll be taking the fox," she said. Nick's eyes lit up as he heard the voice and, looking up, they did so even more. He stayed quiet as she stepped behind him and pushed him forwards, turning this way and that, before entering a private examination room. There was a click as the door was locked behind them, and he began to giggle. This then became full on laughing, as he leant on his knees and began crying out in joy. His chest hurt while his collar began to flicker on and off, though those shocks didn't sully his mood. Relief and happiness and almost shock at the absurdity were all too strong. He felt some of the stress and chaos of the whole previous day unwind, wondering whether this was real or a joke. His mind was just unable to pull this together though, and he kept on laughing, kept on cheering, and kept on crying too, out of both joy and relief.

Tears began to flow from the vet's eyes too, as she made her way in front on him.

"Of all the prison vets, in all the prison hospitals, in all the prisons in all the world!" he giggled, flinching slightly as another light shock tickled him.

"You were lucky enough to end up in this one," Madge Badger said back, her collar orange as she spoke.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12:**

.

Words were not spoken between the pair.

Greetings were not exchanged.

Nick just kept on giggling and crying, as he slowly got out of his wheelchair and stumbled towards Madge. Groaning slightly from a twinge of pain in his chest, he started to fall forwards only to land against her with a thud. She shook backwards but held firm, as two grubby red and maroon arms were draped loosely around her. Nick’s legs buckled and, collapsing forwards, the vet took his weight.

“Easy there, tiger!” she hushed.

Nick broke off from his sobbing, cracking a smile as he did so.

“I know people think I’m a kitty,” he sighed. “But I’m just a fox…”

“You may have to explain that one to me later,” she commented, beginning to groan as she did so. Though just as stocky and strong as her sister, she was also shorter than Nick. While he was thin and lean, he still weighed a reasonable amount and her muscles were beginning to ache from the effort in keeping him up.

“Officer Carrots would appreciate it.”

“Oh, you and your nickname’s Nick,” she replied softly, before her tone hardened. “Now, let’s get you up onto a table. Come on!”

Nick slowly responded, standing up and shuffling towards an awaiting bed, guided by Madge all the way. Together, his arms pushing down and hers up, they got him onto it, at which point he collapsed onto his side. Stepping away, paws up, the honey badger scanned around before focussing her gaze on a supply cabinet. Wandering over to it, she pulled out a medical kit and turned back to face her patient, who’d curled up defensively, tail over his nose.

“Oh gosh…” she gasped, quickly walking back over. She looked at the bare limb with horror, her collar picking up to orange, before her gaze rested to Nick. “This is not okay!” she said. “There is no world in which this is okay and I am so, so, sorry that this had to happen to you and…” Trailing off slightly, she wandered away, pinching the bridge of her nose with her claws as she did so. “Was it Caprey?”

“Who…?” Nick asked softly, ears and head rising up as he did so.

“Byron Caprey. Goat. Two-face’s meaner brother,” Madge explained. “I heard he was the one who put you in with Lenora.”

“Oh, right… yeah,” Nick said, nodding as he did so. “Also, why is she even here?”

“Pre-op transgender,” she said back. “If she was in your cell at the ZPD, she’d be here too.”

“Right,” Nick said distastefully, before his eyes widened slightly. “Does this mean she has a dick?”

Madge paused as she walked, piquing her mouth as she looked back at Nick’s curled form. “Yeah.”

“And balls too?”

She looked at him sceptically. “Are you going somewhere with this?”

“You know what they say about bullies attacking people who are comfortable with their insecurities. Closet gays doing out gays and such?” Nick asked. “I think I now know why I have a titanium baculum.”

Madge let out a slight huff of amusement as she picked up some equipment and walked back over, taking the time to pat Nick’s head slightly as she did so. “Even through all this, you’re still so strong,” she said sadly. Her eyes glanced upwards, resting on the ugly ear tag that hung off him. The sight contact, seemingly enough to irate it, sent the whole ear into a set of rapid flicks.

Looking on, she gulped slightly as a dark thought cross her mind, before turning away. Closing her eyes, she cradled her chin and began breathing in and out deeply, shaking her head slowly as she did so. Her mind was occupied by the thought, her attempts to ignore it futile, and a pained expression grew across her face as it played out. There was a beep, Madge’s collar going orange, as she sniffed and collapsed forwards. Leaning against the bed, head resting on the plastic surface and eyes covered by her paws, she began crying.

“Hey, Madge?” Nick asked, slowly getting up onto his haunches and leaning forwards.

He was cut off by another beep, and a sharp zap as a shock flowed through the honey badger. She jumped slightly, quietening down a bit, before speaking. “Thank-you Nick. Thank you so much.”

 “What for?” he asked, confused.

Madge chuckled slightly, withdrawing her paws to reveal a small grin growing on her face. “Only you could be so blind, dumb fox. You dumb but brave, brave, brave fox. Oh god, thank you.”

“Urgh, helping hand?” Nick asked, his head tilting sharply to one side. “Fifty-fifty? Phone a friend?”

“Honey,” she said softly. She turned to look him in the eyes, trying to compose herself as she did so but failing to hold it together. “They dragged you off with collar poles, they blasted you with water, they dipped and clipped you, they threw you into the cells with maniacs and those who wished to kill you for what you did, they slandered your name and interrogated you and put you up in a court against mammals trained to be savage. They took away twenty years of your life and they chained you up tight. They bussed you in and shaved areas private and intimate to you and then they tagged you and threw you to the bug grinder. And each of these times and more they had mammals who spat and growled and accused you and… and…”

Madge broke down slightly, but held her paw up when Nick leant forward to help her. There were a few light flickers as her collar went off, jolting her, before she snorted in deeply and spoke.

“And if it wasn’t you. If it was Honey who they’d dragged through that. If you’d have traded out my sister, or been in her place on that night and she in yours. If they’d have done a quarter of the things they’ve done to you, and done it to her… She… She…” There was a pause, before the beep of a collar. “She wouldn’t be here joking about it Nick!” she cried, before jolting as a large shock struck her. “She’s so delicate that some tiny pricks can have her bawling that she’s a bad mammal! She’d have fried herself months ago!”

“Madge…” Nick began, only to get cut off with a paw to the tip of his muzzle.

“You saved her life Nick,” she said softly. “You were her friend since always. You gave her a reason to live, and when that imploded you saved her life. You saved her life, and I can never repay you for that.”

Closing her eye and breathing in and out deeply, her collar hovering a dangerous orange throughout, she stayed herself, only waking from her stupor as she felt a paw on her shoulder.

“You honey badgers,” came a soft voice. “So emotional.”

Madge cracked a smile and brushed his paw off her shoulder. “That’s certainly correct. We honey-badgers do care.”

“You’re right about that thing, for sure,” Nick said, slowly moving himself so that he was sitting on the edge of the bed, legs hanging off the edge. Picking up what he’d just said, his companion looked at him sceptically.

“… What do you mean by ‘that thing’?”

Nick looked away, his collar going orange as he closed his eyes and breathed in. “I’m not strong,” he said softly.

There was a shake, and a paw went around his shoulder as Madge, who’d jumped up next to him, shuffled close. “You are strong Nick. No-one who wasn’t strong could go through the hell that those damn power playing bigots threw at you and come out joking.”

…

“I thought he was going to kill me,” Nick said.

“The zebra?”

“Yup. The guy so mean nature gave him a black and white striped uniform from birth,” he snarked.

“He did bruise you up badly, and I’ve got to check for cracked ribs and…” Madge said, trailing off as the fox beside her looked away sadly. “Nick?” she asked.

He turned to face her, his green eyes looking deeply and mournfully into hers. “I saw my life Madge. I saw the whole miserable affair fly in front of me. I saw my parents again. I saw Wild times again. I saw my taming again… And I wish it had all ended there…”

“Why?” the honey badger asked. “What happened next, what did you…”

She trailed off as a look of horror took over her face, her collar going orange again as it did so. She brought her paw up to her muzzle and gasped, shaking her head with worry. “No Nick. No. You can’t! You can’t!”

“Why can’t I?” he asked with a shrug. “What is there left for me? Twenty years of being this prison’s pet vixen? Twenty years of having to walk on all fours, eating off the floor and having to do tricks to avoid being beaten up? Twenty years of dealing with those guards, and those other prisoners who want to kill me?”

“We’re going to fix that!” Madge hissed.

“How?” Nick bitterly asked.

“I report to the warden, who’s a good person. We can try and fix this. Get you in with someone like Damien, and try and get Caprey off of you…”

“I’m going to die here Madge,” Nick said forlornly.

“I’m not going to let you do that,” she hissed back, flinching slightly as a light shock stung her. “I promised my sister that, if I could, I’d be looking after you. I’m not going to let you give up like that, I…”

“I wasn’t talking about me that time,” Nick interrupted. “I hate Lenora with my guts, but she saved my life. A life I wanted to leave but… she charged in and saved me. Without her, who’s to stop the next prey who wants to kill the rebel chomper? Everyone knows who I am, Caprey made sure of that… I’m going to end up on a bed coughing up blood or something. That’s how I leave this world.”

…

“Nicholas… Piberius… Wilde…”

“News to me, I thought my name was Georgina.”

There was a slap as Madge brought her paw to her face. “Why are you giving up. Why, when you are so strong, are…”

“I’m not strong,” Nick interrupted. Huffing, he brought his empty palms out in front of him and opened them up, looking from one empty handful to another and back again. “I’m a dumb fox with parent issues who’s given up on life. If I was strong, I wouldn’t want to kill myself. I wouldn’t put up with the crap that that mad rhino or that goat have given me. I wouldn’t fear death like I do, even though I do want to end my life. Heck, even though I want her to die by a thousand bites, some stupid part of me wants to crawl back to that rhino and call her mommy and have her protect me, despite the fact that I want both of us to kick the bucket. Maybe I should get that officer Texel to be my new daddy or something?  That would be a laugh! Won’t though. Too scared. If I’ve learnt one thing, it’s that I’m not a hero. I’m not strong. I’m a coward. A coward who probably deserves all he’s getting.”

“…Nick…”

“Forget about me,” he said sternly. “Transfer somewhere else, and let me rot here. Given enough time, no-one will remember who I was or what I did. I think that’s the better way.”

.

 …

“I can prove to you that it’s not,” Madge said, bringing out her phone.

Nick’s eyes widened slightly, and he looked at it as she turned it on and unlocked it. There were some flicks as she opened up a gallery, before bringing up a picture. Handing over to Nick, he took it and gasped at what he saw. It was a photograph of a small honey badger cub. The boy, about seven by the look of it, was dressed in tan slacks and a white shirt that had been painted green, darker green palm trees cut out of felt sewed onto it. Around his neck, below his collar, he wore a loosely hung tie, while a pair of jet black aviators rested over his eyes.

“His name is Asani,” she said fondly. “In a few years he might be my nephew. But, for now, he’s one of thousands, if not millions, of little children with one of these around their necks,” she explained, pointing to her shock collar. “He knows that it’s made to hurt him, and we’re all made to wear it because the mammals who don’t wear it say we must. He goes to school and sees kids, prey kids, play games and have fun he can only dream of, and he used to think that that was his future.”

There was a soft beep, Madge’s collar going orange, as she carried on. “Until you came, Nick. Every predator, and every pred child, knows who you are. They think you are a hero, and they are right. You made them think… no, you told them and showed them, that this isn’t our future! We can do better. There’s hope, and it’s because of you, and they love that.”

“That’s…” Nick tried to say, before trailing off and just looking at the picture again in silence, a tear escaping his eye and trickling down past his orange collar.

“It was a hero’s day thing at school,” she explained. “I remember as my boyfriend, Mhikala, called me to ask me to pick him up for his brother. They’d chosen to throw out all the children who’d come in dressed as you, Nick. I remember getting there, and there were crowds like that! Crowds! Every predator child, every single one, when asked to come in dressed up as a hero chose you! So, don’t you dare go around asking people to forget you Nick, it’s too late for that.”

…

“I…” Nick gasped in response. “I… I… -I hope that all the stitching wasn’t as bad as the stuff on that shirt. I mean that stitching there is atrocious!”

…

There was a pause, before Madge’s face winced up. A grin growing across her muzzle, she silently chuckled away. “As I said, don’t you go saying you’re not strong Nick.”

“I’ll... I’ll try,” he agreed, before pondering a bit. “That helped… And those protestors outside the court and prison, I guess they helped. Gazelle, too… I guess I’d be disrespecting her memory if I didn’t buckle up.”

“Yeah, and…” the vet began, before pausing. “-Oh, you mentioned an officer Texel earlier didn’t you?”

“Someone who I thought was nasty, but who I’d now go for any day of the week,” Nick replied with a shrug.

There was a short cackling, as Madge took back her phone and began playing with it. “Now, lie yourself down. People will ask questions if you don’t get the medical exam you’re supposed to be receiving. But, in the meantime, enjoy this.”

“What’s this?” Nick asked, as he lay down.

“After evacuating Honey and the others from the bunker, I was able to get most of their valuables out of there before the police wised up and raided it. However, it turns out Honey set up a security cam and voice recorder covering the entrance,” she explained. “This is a little clip that includes Mr Texel. Enjoy.”

Laying down, Nick took the phone from Madge and began playing it, as she slowly began pulling back his uniform to get a better look at his injuries.

.

**\--- Previously, in Honey’s house---**

.

Flashing blue lights shone through the curtains, painting the tatty fittings and fixtures strange hues as they were lit up. The old cupboards and drawers had been torn out, cutlery strewn across the floor, while even the chipped and cut up kitchen table had been upended, torn aside and thrown against the wall.

Two officers, a panda and a sheep, were scanning around, hunting for clues. Unbeknownst to them though, they were being watched from up above, a hidden eye and ear recording their every activity.

“…Yeah and I mean he did deserve it. I mean only baby predators don’t wear their collars, don’t they?” the latter was saying, the former looking at him silently. The sheep’s ears flicked, and he turned up to face the panda and grunted. “What, can’t take a laugh?”

The panda piqued his mouth and, slowly shaking his head as he did so, brought an accusing finger up. “That’s not funny, that is weird. I think you might have some odd kinks under there Texel. You know?”

 The sheep snorted back in response, turning away as he did so. “Seriously. No humour. A fairy could come and turn you red velvet, or into a cake or something, and you wouldn’t see the funny side.”

“Which is?”

“…No fun,” Texel grumbled, leaning down to examine the cabinet beneath the sink. “Bet you spend too much energy munching bamboo to find anything funny.”

“If you expect me to laugh there, then it’s like the butterfly bomb incident in terms of fun,” the panda officer grumbled back.

“Only you could find being scared of butterflies not funny, I…” The sheep officer paused as he spoke, his paws resting on a box of washing up tablets.

“Firstly, it’s all big flappy insects I hate,” the other one clarified, as he stepped forwards to get a closer look. “And if you didn’t get the memo, you’re not supposed to eat those. I know for someone like you it’s hard to remember that these days.”

“Shut up, I was right!” Texel said out loud, shaking his head before rapidly emptying the cupboard. His colleague looked on silently as the cabinet was laid bare, leaving just the flat surface. It was then that he saw it too, and his eyes went wide.

“Is that a trapdoor?”

“Yeah! Those sneaky chompers…” came the reply, as hooves began edging around the crease, searching for a latch. There was a click and the whole surface hinged up, revealing the domed metal cap beneath, crowned with the large opening wheel on top.

“You think there’s a tunnel under there?”

“Somethin’ or other,” Texel replied, quickly gripping it and spinning it around. Viciously unscrewing it, it slammed into the top of its reach with a metallic shriek, before two burly arms lifted the whole thing up. The ladder down to the bunker lay bared before them, and was already being filled by a pair of feet.

“Couldn’t there be traps down there?” the panda said, the question hanging in the air for a long couple of seconds.

“Unlike you, I’m brave,” Texel boasted, before shooting out of sight as he slid out of view.

“What’s the view?”

“It’s… It looks like the owner here still thought the Reptoslavs were going to nuke us! Tons of food and… hang on…”

The voices went silent, the panda leaning over the hole to try and get a view. It persisted a short while, before a low growling voice rang out.

“Rut me, I knew they were nasty pieces of work before, but I didn’t know they were this evil. They’re a cult! A ruttin’ cult who think sheep are evil!”

“What?”

“They’ve got posters here and everything!” he exclaimed. “Beware ‘the illumibaaa’ti’. They are legion, for they are the flock. Trace the… bloodline? Can you believe this? They weren’t just pred supremacists, but massive Ovineophobes! I bet they were planning massacres and sacrifices of lambs too, just need to dig through these things to find evidence.”

“Think it could change much?” the panda queried.

“Hopefully get that pelt an upgrade to life,” Texel shouted back. “I mean, it they’ve been gathering weapons to attack sheep right here.”

“Wait, guns?”

“Shears, clippers and other crap,” he clarified. “I’m not sure whether to be offended, scared, or just happy that they’re this stupid. I don’t think there’s anything here that could harm me at all.”

“Any evidence about the criminal financing or stuff?”

“Most of their files seem to have been removed. But there looks to be stuff in a cubby hole over here. Let me just move this shelf out of the way and…”

He was cut off by a loud crash, the whole room shaking slightly as it rang out. “You okay down there?” the panda shouted.

“Fine, just knocked over this cage full of…”

He trailed off as a strange fluttering sound began to ring out, before coming back again as fear began to tinge his voice. “What is that… What is that!”

“Texel?”

“WHAT IS IT!”

“What?”

“ARGHH NO! NOT THE MOTHS!”

“Wait, moths?”

“NOT THE MOTHS.”

“MOTHS!?”

“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

The panda suddenly jumped back with a startled yelp as several of the fluttering insects flew out by him. Wide eyed, he swatted around as he tried to shoo them away, leaping around as he did so. More came out from the hatch, as well as another scream, which brought him back over to it.

“Texel I…” he began, before he screamed too. There was a slam and the ringing of spinning steel as the hatch was closed, the panda backing off as multiple insects swarmed around his face. “Shooo! Shoooo!” he cried, fruitlessly batting them away.

A large bang, along with a muffled cry, brought him to his senses and he ran back over to the sink. Leaning in underneath it, his arms hurriedly span to undo the work he’d just done. Then, they stopped, another bang and cry coming from out underneath. The panda stepped out and stood up again, looking with a perplexed expression at the circular spinning lever he held in his paws.

“ _OH GOD… Oh Jesus capybara_ ,” came a final defeated cry of anguish from Texel, still stuck with the moths below.

.

**\--- Back in the present ---**

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

“Enjoying that, Nick?”

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

“I think that’s a yes,” Madge said, smiling as Nick brought his pawpad back to the screen and pulled the time indicator back again. As the cries of Texel rang out once more, she finished unclipping the zip at the back of Nick’s jumpsuit. Peeling it away, he raised his arms so that she could slide it off. He seemed unphased, still obsessed with the video, as it was taken off his feet and thrown into a linen basket.

.

.

_“ARRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHH!!!!! ALL OVER MY WOOL! MY WOOL! ARGGHHHHHH!!!!! ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”_

.

“I think that’s enough of that for now,” she chided, pulling her phone back out of Nick’s paws and pocketing it. The fox blinked, staring at where it had been, before turning to face Madge and whimpering.

“That will not work Nick, given that you’re trying to use canine sounds of affection on a beefy mustelid. Now, we need to discover any wounds and such that will let us keep you in the hospital for a safe buffer of time.”

Nick shook his head slowly and shrugged. “Sorry, but my ribs ache but don’t feel broken.”

“There’s still the chance of internal injuries,” Madge pointed out.

“No real symptoms of internal trauma,” Nick dryly noted, “while my left shoulder is feeling irritatingly normal. I’ve been cursed with a miracle doc.”

“Yes,” she said, tutting. “Bar bruises and cuts from stones on your fall, which I’ll patch up soon, you seem fine enough to be cleared for the general pop. I can still book you here for a day though, to tomorrow night at least. But nothing after that I’m afraid.”

Nick looked away distastefully, huffing. “Any good news.”

Madge shrugged and smiled, reaching over with a paw to pat him on his shoulder. “Good work on remembering the symptoms of a ruptured spleen though.”

“Hey,” Nick pointed out, “I am a vet too. I passed an exam. I had the right to use collar keys, just like you.”

“And look where it got you,” the honey badger pointed out, waving her paws around. “There’s a reason I don’t go near collar keys with a barge pole, however many friends and witnesses I have around me. As for you being a vet, I could list the reasons why even a media studies degree from the ‘Zootopia online university of the arts’ isn’t worth the paper it’s printed on…”

“Because it’s media studies?” Nick offered.

Madge paused, smiling at his joke before lending him his paw. “Come on you, you need a good shower and I need to order you a new uniform.”

“It also looked like really nice paper Madge. I bet they put a lot of money into that.”

She silently smiled at him, before waving him off to the shower in the corner. He nodded and followed her lead, drawing the curtain across before sliding his underwear across the floor. As she placed it in the linen, the sound of hot water squirted out filled the room, quickly followed by sighs of ecstasy and the beep of a collar going up to orange.

“I think the pressure in there is twice that in normal showers, and the temperature at least ten degrees more. Enjoy it while it lasts.”

“Oooooh yes Madge, I am!”

As he went through the routine of clearing up his fur with shampoo, the vet quickly typed in a request on a nearby computer, ordering a new jumpsuit to replace the dirty one. As she sent it off, and looked up some information about his situation, she turned around, watching the silhouette of Nick behind the curtain. She smiled, knowing that she had some good news for him, and let her eyes rest on his figure. The moving shadow stopped, turning around and his ears, the ugly square tag hanging off of one, homing in on her.

“Do you have a picture of Texel after he escaped?”

“I do, but I think it’s best to hold that back as a motivator of sorts,” she said.

“Mean Madge…”

“Schadenfreude has proven to be an effective motivator, the fact that you’re smiling and joking so shortly after wishing you were dead evidence enough in my view,” she explained calmly. “We’d better keep _that_ image ready for any serious relapses.”

“Aaaawww…” Nick moaned.

“On the other hand, I do have some good news,” she offered.

“Which is?”

“It seems that Lenora has been thrown in solitary for the next few days. Caprey will try and get that reversed, likely talking about how she valiantly defended her new cellmate in an act of great chivalry. I won’t let that go uncontested. I’ll make sure the warden knows the extent of your attacker’s injuries, and how overboard she went.”

“I’m rooting for you to support the guy who tried to murder me so hard right now,” Nick said sarcastically, before he tilted his head up and gargling water in his open mouth.

“Things are quite weird here,” Madge explained. “Erius is a good and kind man, with the soul of true reformer and the personality of an ideal warden, and in his prime he’d be on this swiftly. But he’s old, and he gets confused. Forgetful. He’s asked me about dementia and Alzheimer’s in the past. He’s also very trusting, something Caprey and the others take advantage of viciously. If you see that goat talking to Erius, you wouldn’t recognise him. It’s court politics Nick. That koala’s the senile king, I’m the loyal servant of the realm, and Caprey is the evil chancellor.”

“I think I’m at the next stage on from court politics Madge.”

She burst out laughing, giggling even as a light shock tingled at her neck. “Queen of the hive Nick, even at a time like this…”

“You know you love me.”

“In a strictly platonic sense, yes I do,” she replied, before a knock at the door perked her ears. “Ah, your replacement uniform is here.” She hurried over to it and, unlocking, took the freshly pressed piece of clothing, along with the white pair of underpants and a vest on top. Thanking the porter who’d supplied it, she closed the door and locked it again, before placing them back on the bed. “Hurry up in there, my excuses will be running pretty thin soon.”

“Got a fur dryer anywhere?”

“Ah, one here,” she said, picking it up as the shower turned off. Walking over to the shower corner and plugging it into a nearby wall socket, she heard the fabric curtain rattle with droplets as Nick shook himself off, before handing him the device so he could finish drying off his fur. “Now, when you go back into the general pop tomorrow, they may well be freely walking about. Now, did you notice a sickly-looking fox? Coughs a lot?”

“I think I know the guy you’re talking about,” Nick replied, concentrating as he tried to remember the already muddle memories from the morning. “I think I saved him from being compacted by you know who.”

“Right,” Madge agreed. “His name’s Damien. Bit rough cut, but generally nice. Redefines the stereotypes you tend to hold against fratricidal poisoners.”

“Okay…” Nick said slowly, turning off the dryer as he did so and peeking out of the curtain. “Can I have some pants please?”

“Yes,” she chirped back, picking the pair of y-fronts from the stack. “Though I don’t have any qualms seeing you nude.”

“And I thought you said you had a boyfriend,” Nick teased, pulling the curtain away and standing out in the open, bare form presented to her.

“Oh, not in that way,” she dismissed, waving her paw. “I was so into medicine when I was young, I learnt to burp, feed and change Honey before I was even tamed. Back then, whenever your parents came over, they were always happy to let me do the dirty deed.”

Nick’s ears and tail drooped, his collar beeped up to orange, and he meekly pinched the underwear and pulled it up. Madge looked at him and smiled, wiggling her eyebrows playfully, before stifling a grin. Nick groaned, rolling his eyes and bringing his paw to his face, sliding it down his muzzle as Madge cackled.

“And the apprentice becomes the master, Slick. Though I did feed and burp you, so those services are still available.”

Nick stepped forwards, walking towards the rest of his clothes, only to be stopped by a paw on his chest. “Let me just see if any of you needs some patching first,” she said.

“Well, to be fair I do remember you doing this to me back in the days,” he commented, as she brought out a glue-gun like device. Leaning in, she scanned around his fur and, where she spotted a bad cut, coated it in the plaster solution, sterilising it and sealing it.

“Oooh, stings a bit, Patches,” Nick said, as a sore cut on his hip was sealed.

“That’s the sterilising solution, you should know all antiseptics do that and…” Madge replied, before pausing for thought. Replaying the conversation out in her head, she blinked and spoke. “Patches?”

“I think you’re officially a grade-A friend of mine now,” he explained. “I didn’t object when you called me Slick… Of course, that means you need a nickname.”

“Patches… Patches sounds good Slick,” she said back, finishing her job. Nick stepped forwards to his clothes, quickly putting on the vest and sighing as he felt the soft and firm fabric, fresh from the wash.

“Do you think Caprey omitted this to spite me as well?” he asked.

“Likely,” she said, shrugging. “I mean now you won’t need to go bare-chested whenever you need to take a dump.”

“I never though of that,” Nick said, as his fingers lingered on the zip on the back of his jumpsuit. He pulled it down to its closed position, over the base of his bare tail, which wagged slightly in the air. Madge looked at it, frowning, before clicking her fingers.

“Idea?” Nick asked.

“Compression bandage,” she said, bringing out a long roll. “Might keep that poor thing warm, at least.”

“I suppose,” he muttered, taking it and pulling it up his tail. The bare tip was still exposed, and for half its length it was loose, but the top was tight and cosy. The appendage waggled some more, and Nick smiled. “Thanks again Patches. I… Well…”

“Save it Slick,” she said. “Now, you’ll have to go back into general eventually, and I’m completely drained. But I’ll schedule a meeting for tomorrow with the warden. I’ll rest up, come in, and try to get you in with Damien. Stay strong for me Slick. Stay strong for Honey. Stay strong for all of us.”

He smiled, stood up, and put his paws on her shoulders. “I will…”

Bringing her into a light hug, she patted him on the back and smiled. “Your parents would be so proud…”

There was a jolt, Nick withdrawing and his collar shining orange again.

“Slick… Is everything…?”

“Do you know how they’re treating them?” he asked, his voice pained as he spoke.

“I… I don’t have clearance to go near their cell. If I had, I’d have told you years ago,” Madge replied sadly. “I’m sorry Nick.”

“But… any news, anything?” he begged. “And what if I started biting myself? How would you deal with that? And…”

“I’m sorry Nick,” she said again, cutting him off. “I don’t know… I don’t know.” Her collar went orange as she raised her eyes off the floor. “Why are you asking about biting?”

“Caprey and Ramched said…”

“They lied,” she said sternly. “Whatever they said, they lied.”

“They had my father’s fur.”

“It could be any foxes!”

“It smelled…”

“Are you certain.”

“No, but…”

“They lied,” she said again. “And in terms of biting, the worst I’ve done to stop it is fit a muzzle and a cone, and put that person in a padded cell. Apart from that, they act like any other prisoner. I see no reason why it wouldn’t be like that for them, if that really is happening.”

“But how can you be sure?”

“I’ll asked the warden, though the way the jails here are set up means he’s only in charge of this building, not theirs,” she said back. “As long as you promise not to give in, and to keep on fighting. We’ve waited so long for a hero Nick. Don’t disappoint us… please.”

Nick looked back at her, panting, before closing his eyes and gulping. He let a shiver run through his body as he stayed himself, before he nodded slowly. “I’ll… I’ll try. But it’ll be hard, and I need help.”

Madge smiled with relief, before her eye strayed slightly and lit up. Wandering over to a desk, she brought out a pen and some sheets of paper, before passing it to Nick.

“Undo your fly or something and hide it in there,” she said. “You can have Damien hide them in his cell. Jot down your thoughts, write a diary, a manifesto, stories, poems, doodle…. Whatever helps.”

“I’ll see what comes,” he said, nodding. Hiding away the items as instructed, he walked forwards towards the door. Madge, behind him, put her paw on the lock and looked up.

“Ready Slick?”

“That’s a stupid question and you know it,” he replied back. “I’m not, but you know what, Patches?”

“What?”

“I’m close enough…”

With a click, the door was unlocked, and together they left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a bit disappointed that no-one who read the last chapter seemed to of picked up on what has to be my all time best music joke (so far). Ideally the movie joke in this chapter was more accessible.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up today to find the fan-fic version of this story had been taken down without warning. I'll update this version as normal, and hopefully by next week the fan-fic version will be back up and updating with it. In the meantime, a toast to A03!
> 
> The website that politely lets you know when you've done something you don't like, letting you fix it on due taste.
> 
> Hoorah!

**Chapter 13**

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

I was just remembering how busy things were after he was hauled away. Our focus for so long had been based around his fate. What the outcome of his trial was, how they’d treat him, stopping him from being carted off.

Once they’d got him in their clutches, bussed away to where we couldn’t help him, we were at a loss for a bit.

I’m guessing that spending the first few days afterwards at home, munching far too much bamboo, wasn’t the most elegant solution of mine. Still, it helped. I was tired and needed time to recharge, and recharge I did.

In a weeks’ time we were out again.

Previously, losing our momentum registered as the worst thing imaginable for us, in tactical terms at least. For a protest movement to work, you require three things. There’s the initial fire that burns, kicking the aggression, passion and anger out into the open; then the end-game plan, which informs those who are opposed and on the fence of what you actually want, actually turning you into an alternative rather that the ‘mad as hell’ brigade; and finally, the means to protest in a way that can convince people to back your change, instead of driving them away.

Losing our momentum lets the fire that started it all die out, until your movement turns into nothing, a footnote in history. It also weakens the means to protest, turning your campaign from something new and exciting into something that society just sees as background noise. To be fair though, our protest topic has been present for so long that it’s as background noise as you can get.

This time was different though, was it not?

The news that predators were being targeted and attacked, with prey ending up in the crossfire, started to both divide and unite the sides in ways I’d never witnessed previously. Yes, there was plenty of additional tension, and certainly an increasing flare up from the nastier prey, but more run of the mill prey began migrating to our side than ever before.  I remember seeing a group of old prey ladies, grandma’s and such, all out and angry at the ZPD.

The source of their ire?

This new enemy, and the threat he presented to the younger generation. They weren’t against preds, even protesting with a group of young canines on the same topic. They both knew they could be caught up by him, and, while it was sad in a way, I was happy to see them finding common ground on being potential victims.

With each additional darting and each additional savage and each additional victim that the enemy created, he stoked the fire. Old habits died hard for him, and he struggled to adapt to this new environment. I wonder just what the limits of this new unity would be? I remember seeing this aged bunny with stripes on his face, who could well have been part of the ‘triple the voltage brigade’ a few weeks back, walking along in his zimmer-frame, paw in paw with an old dingo (a survivor of the Western Outback occupation too, if those really were brand marks on his arm). If those two odd balls could find common ground, who else could?

.

It makes you think.

.

It makes you hope.

.

.

TO: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

.

Dear Mel.

.

It wasn’t all plain sailing. While preds and prey were both victims, the perpetrator of the attacks was on the wrong side, was he not?

Though Wilde couldn’t have known the truth at the time, the fact that his story was based around a wolf attacking him provided plentiful ammunition for those who were against us.

Half a dozen debates, and articles, went by and the same point was brought up.

‘It’s still the fault of preds.’

‘A Wolf is behind this all’.

‘How can they be the victims when one of their own is causing this’.

Etcetera… Etcetera…

Some of these mammals were vile, and threw slander at my way and the way of predators at a whole. Those were the easier ones.

The awkward ones were those who asked me what I thought about this. Asked me to explain what the motives of this monster would be. Why I kept pledging my allegiance to the preds.

When I told them my story they were sympathetic. They explained that they too were opposed what went on in those regions of the world, and some even supported de-collaring in areas where there was the popular vote, as opposed to my intention of blanket banning across Mammalia.

I suppose I should be thankful for having my views and morals tested. Keeps me on my toes. Tiring though, and I couldn’t help myself in respecting them even as I felt the usual emotions. I’m guessing we’re but two sides of the same coin. It’s easy to call your enemies evil and vile, even when they actually agree with what you say ninety-nine percent of the time. It’s hard to bite your tongue as they give a point or argument that trips you up though.

Of course, things are always easier when you have a trump card, are they not?

Thankfully, Detective Hopps provided us with a juicy one, which I could deploy to great effect. They would complain about how a wolf was behind this, and I would counter with the fact that a sheep was too. This ‘Bell Conagher,’ who had his own conspiracy board and was shown to have been behind the initial savage reversions. Pulling out what I could, from the records I compiled, I tried to use him as much as possible. Not much you can do with a brief history, standard info, etc. Still, half a dozen articles from nothing is impressive, is it not?

Or at least, it would be.

I wonder if he himself saw one of my pieces.

If I’m at fault.

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Please don’t go there Grima.

.

I was pushing the sheep point too.

We all were.

It takes two to tango, etc.

I found it ironic that a wolf and sheep working together, pred and prey united to make life worse for the former, were merely driving pred and prey together to make life better for them.

We knew that a sheep was involved in this whole mess at this stage.

And he knew that we knew.

So, he acted.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The mood at the ZPD was tense.

The great atrium rung with activity, though none of it was putting anyone in a good mood. The ringing of hoof steps on the tile floor, and the thud of thicker megafauna feet, sounded out like a tickertape, all while hushed whispers added to the soundtrack like a low droning buzz. Entering through the front door, Judy’s ears rose up, as they always did, as she tried to parse the flows of conversation going on. Most attempts were fruitless, and those that did brought in nothing new.

More tense riots, rumbling on as angrier preds clashed with angrier prey. More calls out and more patrols being sent, trying to keep the ever-straining peace. Hopping out of the way of a quartet of T.U.S.K. Rhino’s, thundering out to some new crisis, she finished her way over to reception desk.

“Yes… Yes, I understand,” the dispatcher, a female zebra, was saying, nodding her head slowly as she did so. “No, I can’t do that, I…”

She cut off as some loud shouts came from the other side, moving her head away and flinching at the screams, before moving back and carrying on.

“Antlerson over in the seventh is already occupied with a reported arson attempt on a row of buildings. We’re…”

More screams, Judy’s ears managing to pick up the F word and what had rapidly become the worst of the C words among them.

“I know that it’s a pred heavy area, but we’ve got to investigate all crimes against all mammals…”

…

“Just because you think the one who assaulted this old lady was a wolf, doesn’t mean I can move resources from…”

…

“Yes, I’ll put you through to the chief,” the zebra finished off, before throwing down her receiver and leaning forwards. She let out a long sigh and groan, all wrapped into one, before resting her forehead on her hooves and slowly rubbing them.

“Excuse me,” Judy quietly said, pausing slightly as the red eyes of the dispatcher turned to study her. “I was told to report in to Bogo, reportedly we have an emergency.”

“Detective Hopps?”

“Junior detective Hopps,” the bunny specified, hopping up on her toes slightly as she said it.

“Right, you’re supposed to go down to morgue two,” she instructed, before a ringing phone distracted her. As Judy walked off past her, she held it up to her head and began patiently replying, only to grimace as both a second and third receiver began to ring too.

While she heard the phone’s going off, the bunny didn’t look back. Instead she began jogging towards a set of staircases. Running around other officers, ranging from larger mammals in rumpled up uniforms who were slowly dragging themselves out the door, to an impatient moose officer trying to haul along a trio of cuffed and muzzled racoons, she quickly found herself entering the bowels of the precinct. The smell of fresh air slowly left, replaced by that of bleach and cleaning liquids, slowly becoming overpowering as she reached the lowest floor. Turning left as she arrived, Judy’s small foot claws rapped along the linoleum floor as she past a cold metal door. A second came up and she turned and entered, joining chief Bogo and one of the morticians inside.

“Hopps,” the former said, his voice, as always, short, stern and straight to the point.

“Chief,” Judy saluted back, snapping her arm up to her forehead in a salute, before lowering it as she took in her superior. Her gaze lowering to his right paw, her nose began twitching, before she looked back up at him and cleared her throat. “Sir…”

“I don’t care,” Bogo interrupted, his nostrils flaring before he brought up a large vaping cigarette and took in a deep breath. Judy remained silent as he breathed out again, the mist curling around his face and condensing in the cool air. “You were going to ask me if I understood that this is legally no different to tobacco use, and that, as this is a public building, I’d have to do this outside. Am I correct?”

The small bunny let her buckteeth rest over her lower lip and shifted her gaze over to the mortician, an albino hedgehog who wore a large pair of black rimmed glasses, their size dwarfing her face. “Yes, sir…”

“Hopps,” Bogo announced coldly, “I don’t care.”

“I understand that sir,” she replied, looking back at him.

The chief nodded, taking in another deep breath and letting out another cloud of mist, his hoof tapping against the tile floor as he did so. He noticed the cloud slowly approaching Judy, and slipped his device into a trouser pocket. “That is very nicotine rich, Hopps. You may want to step back.”

“I’ll be fine sir,” she said, before turning to look at the hedgehog, and the shrouded figure she stood next to. “I’m ready for the brief, sir. Who is this?”

“It’ll be best that you read the letter for that,” the mortician replied, handing over a clear evidence bag that held a sheet of paper within it. Looking down, Judy picked it up and began reading.

.

.

_Dear fellow brothers and sisters._

_Dear fellow sufferers under the collar._

_Dear all piece of filth grazers who happen to be reading this._

_._

_I’ve heard many things lately about ‘Pred and Prey’ getting along. I’ve even had myself used as an example in this. I am a wolf who acts by example though, thus I thought I’d inform those preds who aren’t so clear on how to use the prey mammals you live with on the proper method of treatment for them. This applies to all prey, those who think that they’re your friends, those who are out there marching with you, or who you buy your groceries from. Etcetera… Etcetera…_

_Mr Conagher was a deluded predophile who talked a lot about peace and reconciliation. He even went as far as daring to ask me for tips to dating wolf bitches, somehow thinking that they’d live up to their name and spread their legs for the likes of them._

_I didn’t treat him with sympathy. I didn’t treat him with rage._

_I used him._

_That is the inherent purpose of prey mammals, something that some of us seem to have forgotten, have we not? To be used by us superior preds in any way we see fit. I baited him with promises of food and intercourse, and thoroughly tricked him in aiding my plan._

_One day that plan will be complete, and we chompers will reclaim our rightful place on the top of the food chain, revelling in the nirvana of our bloodthirst and savagery. There will be no collars, no laws and none of that patronising, demeaning and insulting trivialisation, such as performed by that blasphemer Wilde._

_This day, though, Bell Conagher outlived his usefulness to me. To a degree, at least…_

_Once he was politically useless, I thought I’d make some culinary and cathartic use of him, before returning him to you mammals as an example._

_Chief Bogo, Mayor Swinton, Junior Detective Hopps?_

_You’ll be like him soon. All of you._

_Enjoy your worthless lives while they last._

_._

_Regards,_

_Your superior._

.

.

Placing down the letter, Judy looked over to the hedgehog and nodded. She braced herself as the draped cloth, speckled in red here and there, got pulled back, though she still gagged slightly at the sight beneath.

It used to be a ram.

.

Used to be…

.

His entire face had been torn off, now looking more like the ruined visage of a shredded pomegranate than something that used to be a mammal. The whites of his bones stared out, while red pits existed where his eyes would be. All over his body, deep cuts and gouges penetrated his bare skin, all of it perforated from when the wool had been torn off. Below the knee, all of his right foot was missing, while his left arm was simply gone, torn clean off of the shoulder. The other limbs present had huge chunks carved from them, as if by a knife, while along the torso much rougher pits existed.

“That’s… Bell Conagher?” Judy asked tensely, breathing in and out deeply as she approached the corpse’s head. Looking over at it, she gently reached out a finger, resting it on one of the two blunt horn bases that rose from the its skull.

“We think so,” the mortician said. “It’s hard to get a positive I.D. on something so… ruined.”

“And as you know, we have very little on this collaborating sheep,” Bogo said.

“Indeed,” Judy agreed. “In terms of passports and other documents, he appears to have none. Nothing registered in Zootopia, at least. A basic online bank account that anyone could open was present for paying the rent, and we’ve tracked that over to the Goatengratz region. However, the bank over there only forwarded us a teenager’s passport picture. Nothing else we could use to prove this is even him.”

“Bar the letter,” Bogo reminded her.

“Which could likely be a lie,” Judy pondered. “Maybe he wanted his sheep to go into hiding, and used this to cover him up.

“A possibility,” the chief agreed, “though file it down as a lower priority for now.”

“There’s no such thing as low priority in this line of work,” the bunny cop countered, holding a finger up to him as she began studying the corpse more closely. Bogo, meanwhile, pulled out his vape-pen and took another deep, deep inhale from it.

“There is when you’re facing species riots, savage dartings, hate killings and a mayor who you were meant to be meeting ten minutes ago, Hopps,” he said, breathing out a cloud of vape as he did so. “This is another night’s riot if I’ve ever seen one. Let’s focus on getting our wolf, then we can mop up any wayward sheep after. Understood, Hopps?”

“Understood,” she replied, flicking a brief salute as the cape buffalo began marching off.

…

“Permission to investigate in unpaid overtime, sir?”

…

Bogo paused where he stood, one arm on the door handle. Turning around, he let an ever so thin smile grow on his mouth as he took in the small bunny in front of him, before continuing on his way out. “Permission granted,” he replied, his voice cutting out as he pulled the door shut behind him.

“Good to see him smile once in a while,” Judy commented, turning back to the corpse and the mortician.

“Yeh, once. A sight we’ll never see again,” the hedgehog replied, causing Judy to stifle a giggle back. It faded quickly, though, as she turned back to the body in front of her.

“Where are his horns?” she asked quietly, looking up at the sawn-off stumps that crowned the creatures head.

“In a biohazard bag in one of the coolers,” the mortician replied. “Had to extract them from the poor creature’s rectal cavity.”

Judy’s eyes went wide as dinner plates, and she gasped in horror. “Oh sweet cheese and crackers…”

“You tell me about it,” she commented, waving it off as if it were a bad smell or piece of gossip. Jogging across her table, her spines shaking as she went, she came to a tray and pulled out a small binder of paper, handing it over to Judy. “Anyway, given that there were some bite marks present, I was able to run through the dentistry records and came up with a good match.”

Opening up the sheets of paper, Judy quickly began scanning through, her eyes darting left and right as she took it all in. “Rufus Tracker,” she said slowly, pausing over the picture of an average looking grey wolf.

“We even looked through our DNA samples, came across an old bit of his fur from a false paternity suit and it’s a match. I bet he’s wishing he just paid someone else’s cub-support now!”

“I’ll say,” came the tenser reply. “Though we still have no evidence about who this Lupus Savage is. This could be the same wolf, or a different one.”

“Better find him quickly then. Maybe you’ll catch them both, red pawed!”

“It’ll be purple pawed,” Judy corrected. “From the Midnicampium Holicithius.”

“Whatever you say.”

“Anyway, we’ve got an address, though it says that this mammal was declared missing a month ago,” the bunny explained, turning around and pacing the tiled floor as she laid out her plan of action. “That’s just after the Animalia incident, so a bit late but not unreasonable if he had to go into hiding, but it could be a red herring. Same with that sheep there. I’ll have to get confirmation on whether this is Lupus or not the only way possible, though that’ll take a while to get organised. In my overtime, I’ll look up any missing sheep, see if this is a decoy. A DNA test between him and any wool samples found in the apartment would also be great.”

“We checked there once, and it was very clean, and what wool we did find reportedly had the scents of over a dozen different sheep between them,” the hedgehog noted. “It was no use at the time, but now we can at least compare it to this guy’s stuff. Results won’t be back any time soon however.”

 “Then I’d better be useful in the meantime,” Judy said defiantly, “I think I’ll be off to Mr Tracker’s place to do some sleuthing.”

The hedgehog looked over and shrugged. “You do that, girl.”

“I will,” Judy said with a nod. “If Bogo can try to do something as hard as quit smoking at a time like this, I can easily solve this case.” Turning on the spot, she began marching off to the door, jumping up to grab the handle and pulling it down with a groan. As her feet touched the floor again, and the door began to open, she turned, her ears rising as the hedgehog mortician spoke up.

“He isn’t quitting, you know?”

“Oh,” Judy replied.

“In fact, I think he literally started with that thing a day or so ago.”

Pausing, the bunny cop raised her finger as she tried to think of something to say before giving up, shrinking back down and skulking out, closing the door behind her.

.

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* * *

 

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.

Stepping through the staff entrance, showing her pass to the desk officer present, Madge entered the prison building once more. It was mid-afternoon, though her shift wasn’t due to start for a couple of hours. She was in early, regardless.

She had a critical appointment to make with the warden.

Briskly walking through the staff areas, her feet hurriedly scurrying beneath her, she climbed up the stairs and walked down the winding corridors, making her way around the prisoner areas and skirting offices and record halls as she did so. It could be any kind of municipal building, with slightly worn brown carpeting and uniform white painted walls. But, reflecting the light from the rows of fluorescent tubes, the odd set of bars or steel door would show itself now and again. A reminder to her of just what a place this was, and who she was here to help.

Carrying on, she entered a small waiting room, several chairs laid out in front of her around a table with some ancient magazines on it. Pausing for a second, she glanced at the time, both on her watch and the wall clock.

They were the same.

She stood still, hopping up and down on her toes and twiddling her fingers nervously. When she’d met Nick the previous day, she’d been tired. After filling in for half of someone else’s shift and driving back home, radio on full and windows down for safety, she’d been shattered. Sleep had come and it had been deep, though not without dreams.

She gulped, a paw reaching up and fiddling at her collar as she remembered some of them. The damn device, in the one moment it would have been useful to her, had decided to let her be.

Her eyes reached up and glanced at the pictures of staff on the wall, stealing a sudden glance of Byron Caprey’s smiling visage.

Looking away sharply, she closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her muzzle tightly. His laughs from the night before, and the pained screams of both Nick and Honey, replayed in her mind, recorded as if they were real.

A deep breath in, and she looked up at the clock.

The best part of an hour still to go.

Looking down at her feet, then side to side, she stood up and walked forwards, holding her paw out and rapping it against the solid wooden door.

…

“Ah, is that you Madge. You’re early!”

The reply, in the usual outback accent, was happy, and the honey badger smiled before replying. “Yes, sir. May I come in.”

“If you only call me Nigel, an’ help me with these bloomin’ folders, you can be my guest.”

Madge reached down and opened the down, entering into the office. Off in a corner, she saw the warden at his desk, his small grey form hunched over some sets of paperwork. A pile of leaves was by his side, which he was absentmindedly chewing, while various other pictures and curiosities filled the area. Behind him, on the windowsill of the wall to wall window, stood long rows of small plastic cases, reminding her somewhat of the cell blocks that could be seen behind them. Inside, preserved items ranged from bugs and plants to rocks and even the odd-bullet fragment.

“Enjoying the view?”

Madge jolted slightly, caught off guard, before looking down at the smaller marsupial and shrugging. “Your collection, Nigel. It’s very eclectic, if I may say so.”

He paused, slowly standing up on his chair, arm resting on the side for support, and looked over at the window. “Quite, though all the cell blocks behind do detract from it, given that all their wardens don’t give half a damn about their facilities” he commented, before looking down at a set of folders by his feet. “Mind swapping these for the lot near the dunny, I don’t want to do my back in or anything.”

Quickly nodding, she leant down and picked a pair up, easily carrying them underneath her shoulders. Hauling them over, she exchanged them for a pair of waiting ones, placed down by the door to his private bathroom, and then completed the first of several exchanges. She carried on, walking backwards and forwards, as he stayed at his desk and carried on filling in his documents. She noted, as she did so, that while the room in and of itself wasn’t dated, he seemed to object to that and be doing his best to remedy it. Bar cladding the walls in varnished wood and putting up a framed bible quote over a safe, she pondered whether there was anything more he could do to make it look like the warden’s office from the Clawshank Redemption.

She filed the joke away inside her for the time being. In any case, she noted, he did have his own quote. A bronze plaque on the front of his desk, inscribed with some Latin saying, though she believed he only had that to test that his memory still worked. Finally, she grabbed the final set of documents, taking them over.

Finishing off his own work, Nigel Erius slowly got out of his chair, groaning slightly as he leant for a cane. Holding it up, though not using it, he walked past Madge as she dropped down the last of the files. “Thanks for the help with that,” he said, the honey badger smiling back.

Watching him as he opened up a large filing cabinet and began to search through it, she sat down at a waiting chair and settled in, looking over the desk as she did so. Like the rest of the room, the piece of furniture seemed dated. Made of varnished teak, it was cluttered with various odds and ends. Empty jam jars and coffee pots filled with stationary, picture frames holding newspaper clippings and old photographs that were slowly fading. Leaning over, she studied some of them closely. Various black and white pictures, showing port cities as well as Zootopia’s own outback island; coloured photographs of lonesome rust red landscapes, likely in the true outback provinces, dotted with the odd green and brown brush; sketches of a smiling female koala, wearing a sun dress and a straw hat; a small black and white photograph showing a striped bunny in a military uniform, saluting proudly; a sketch of a collarless vixen, in simple survival clothes, which stood adjacent to the bunny; and a well framed but blurry black and white photograph which showed three koala’s, the smallest peeking out of its mothers pouch, sitting at a café on a street. Looking in closer, Madge noticed a water tower behind them, the words ‘Bunnybury’ painted on it.

Her ear twitching, she pulled back slightly and turned her head to check on the warden. Leant over, he was still sifting through the folders, trying to find the piece of paper he was looking for. A pair of glasses out and resting on his nose, he hummed as he worked. _‘Hmmmmm hmmm hmm hmmmm hmm, hmmmmm hmmm hmm hmmm…’_

Turning her head as he began to mumble something about a dancing echidna and a billabong, she looked back at the desk and paused as a paperweight caught her eye. Squinting, even tilting her head a bit despite not being a canine, she leant in and looked at it closer. It was a perfectly carved rectangle, similar to a pack of cards, but longer and thinner. Its surface gave no clue to what kind of rock it was made from, being polished to perfection and a uniform black to an almost unsettling degree. She supposed it might not be rock, rather some resin or something, yet it seemed to possess a weight and heaviness that made it seem even heavier than rock, and more like lead or gold. Again, though, the perfect razor thin edges and crisp points argued that it couldn’t be anything so soft and malleable.

Shaking her head, she cleared such thoughts from her mind, yet found them slowly seeping back in. Her gaze once more rested on the paperweight, observing its strange geometric perfectness, and finding herself all the more nervous for it. As she heard the warden close the desk, she looked up at the ceiling and, grabbing a sheet of paper, covered the offending item.

Out of sight, out of mind…

At least in theory.

“My old rock causing you mischief?”

“Uh-no…” Madge replied hurriedly, watching the elderly koala as he shuffled back into his seat and grabbed a pen, filling out the form he’d brought over.

There was a chuckle from the other side, followed by the sound of a scratching pen on paper. “You’re not the first that thing has freaked out. It’s amazing how it can give some mammals, elephants even, the jitters. You know, I bet the modern joke shops can’t give out anything that good.”

“Ah, right,” Madge nervously replied.

“It was a gift from an old friend,” he continued, “and speaking of old friends, you didn’t need to come in here to check on me. You know that. Though as you’re here you might as well sign it.”

“Sign what?” she asked, confused somewhat.

The warden just shrugged, pushing over the document he’d been filling in. “You’re overtime form dearie. Good sport of you for filling in yesterday. You should know that I don’t let good deeds go unpunished.

Her eyes widening at the statement, Madge looked down at the form and smiled somewhat as she saw what it was. Taking out a pen, she quickly filled it in, speaking as she did so. “That’s not why I’m here sir, actually…”

“You’re not?” he interrupted, a hint of panic in his voice. Closing his eyes, he mumbled slightly as if searching for something, bringing a paw up to rub his temple.

“Don’t…” Madge began, only to be cut off.

“I must have forgotten,” he said, grimacing as he did so. He took a deep breath in, and then began recounting a saying out loud. _“Durum hostem videre…”_

“Don’t worry,” she interrupted, pausing him in the middle of his act. “Don’t worry, you didn’t forget a thing. I must have forgotten to tell your receptionist the full details.”

Opening his eyes and sighing with relief, the koala smiled, before continuing. “-vultus interdum videtur quod sic video in te, Interdum mihi. Quis ille sit?”

Looking down at the front of the desk, the full quote carved in bronze at the front, Madge smiled and nodded. “As I’ve said before, you have nothing to worry about. Despite what you might think when you overthink these things, your mind is still in good running order.”

“That’s easy for you to say, your young ones haven’t got into the habit of not trusting your faculties yet” he commented, shaking his head. “Besides, the day I can’t remember that quote is the day I swore to retire, so there is that for me to worry about…” He scratched his ear slightly before waving his paw once more. “Anyway, why are you here then?”

“Are you familiar with one of our newer inmates,” she began. “One Nicholas Wilde?”

“The Wild Times fox?” he asked, before smiling. “Certainly. I’d ask if he’d settled in well, but from what I gather things haven’t been quite that dandy, have they?”

“No,” she began. “Given the political aspect to his imprisonment, things would always be rough. However, I think there has been a serious oversight in terms of who he’s…”

She was cut off by a loud knocking at the door, the sound jerking both her and the warden’s head up.

“Hey! Who’s that?” he shouted out.

“It’s yer favourite head guard, w _aaaa_ ’rden,” came the accented reply, some of the words slurred into sounding like bleats. Madge’s eyes went wide and she gulped, while the koala in front of her paused for a second before speaking.

“I’m in a meeting Caprey!”

“It isn’t anythin’ f _ooo_ ’rmal,” he replied.

“Is it urgent?”

“Sort of… And I’m on a tight schedule.”

The warden looked back at the honey badger in front of him and then at the door, opening his mouth to speak. Caprey cut him to it.

“It would make things far easier fer me. Please Nigel.”

Looking back at Madge, who nervously shook her head, he shrugged. “If you want to say anything private dear, I’ll still be here after. Sorry.” He then turned to the door and shouted. “Hey, Caprey. As long as you apologise to Miss Madge, it’s fine by me.”

The door creaked open and the goat trotted in. Madge watched him silently, as he grabbed a chair and moved it right next to hers. He jumped on, shaking it about and knocking her slightly, before leaning forwards. His taller frame was intimidating, and she shuffled away slightly as he moved towards the warden. The koala, meanwhile, looked on silently.

“I think you’re forgetting something,” he said, his voice stronger than his small grey form would suggest.

The goat shrugged back. “I don’t think so. You gettin’ confused…?”

“I distinctly remember telling you to apologise to Dr Badger.”

Blinking, Caprey shrugged. “You didn’t. Tha’s fer sure.”

He blinked a few times, shaking his head and mumbling, a flash of doubt in his eyes. He slowly opened his mouth, as if to speak, only to be cut off.

“Well, I remember him saying so, that’s for certain,” Madge interrupted, speaking to Caprey. She noticed the eye on her side of his face quickly turning down to glower at her, but carried on regardless. “I think it’s your ears that need testing, not the warden’s memory.”

“Sorry,” the goat replied innocently, with a quick shrug.  The honey badger supressed her anger at his lie, knowing full well that he didn’t mean it. Even worse though was the fact that, once more, he was playing his nasty game with Erius. From all her experience she knew that there was nothing wrong with the warden’s memory, but the constant comments from the goat made it seem anything but for him. Caprey had him second guessing his actions with every merciless attack on his worst fears, all to help cover up his own cruelty. The fact that it was so cruel and painful to someone she liked, someone she knew didn’t deserve anything like that, only made it worse. Caprey wasn’t done though, and he shuffled in his seat, jostling Madge’s slightly, before turning his gaze back to the warden. “I’d say ther’ not what they used ter be. But I heard something on ther grapevine. You know about Lenora…”

“The poor girl still waiting for her operation?” the warden asked. Madge opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by the goat by her side.

“A cryin’ shame tha’,” he said sadly, shaking his head slowly. “How’s ther charity fund?”

“Small as always,” came the reply.

“Well then, every little helps,” Caprey said, turning down to pull out his wallet. He flicked through it and pulled out a ten-buck note, which was quickly taken by Nigel and placed into a tin kitty that lay in the desk’s corner.

“Much appreciate, mate,” he said as he turned back to the two in front of him, smiling. “Though I think we’re gonna need an awful lot more. Now, was there anything else from you. Madge and I…”

“About Lenora,” he said, only to be cut off by the honey badger.

“Who was also who I was here to talk about,” she interrupted.

His attention turning back to her, the warden scratched his chin and spoke. “I thought you were here about that Wilde fellow?”

“Both him and her, given that they’re cellmates,” she replied, only to quieten down, her voice hushing itself, as the hard cut of a hoof was felt on her shin.

“Oh yes,” Caprey interrupted. “Ther’ like a house on fire. She’s happy to have someone ter comfort her, and I think he loves the petting and all she’s giving him. Very therapeutic I hear.”

“A bit of above the board stuff I’m fine with,” the warden said reassuringly, “as long as they’re both on board.”

Madge moved to speak, only to grit her teeth at the sting of his hoof, pushing harder into her. “I know,” the goat responsible continued. “Though ther help it’s giving both ther’ mental health and all. Must be a…”

“Mr Caprey, can you please take your hoof from off my leg!” Madge finally hissed, her suddenly angry gaze levelling itself at his innocuous one

“My hoof? You’re leg… I’m not sure what yer talking about Doctor, I…”

“I’m sure it was an accident. A swinging leg or something,” the warden suggested, as he peeked over and looked down, seeing two pairs of legs in their set places. He settled back down on his chair, looking sceptically at both of them, to Madge and Caprey and Caprey to Madge. The goat looked on innocuously while Madge glared daggers at him. Their eyes briefly met for a second, and she felt a wave of shame as she spotted the orange glints of light in his eyes. She turned away and composed herself, as he spoke out. “I don’t rememb _eee’_ r, anything. But If I did, I’m sorry Madge. My b _aaaa_ ’d.”

“Yes,” she muttered, before turning to the koala in front of her. “And while he is reporting about Lenora and Nick Wilde getting on, I saw the latter in the infirmary yesterday and he painted a very different picture.”

“Was this about ther fight?” Caprey offered. “I heard ther rhino saved his life.”

“His life? I heard about a fight but… Explain this, Caprey,” Nigel ordered.

“A nasty z _eeee’_ br _aaaa_ tried ter pound tha’ fox into ter ground,” he explained, shaking his head slowly as he did so. “She saved his life, and got hauled off ter ther hole for her good deed.”

The warden scratched his chin, before speaking. “Is this true, Madge?”

Pausing, the honey badger closed her eyes and took a deep breath in and out. “Yes…”

“A tr _aaa_ ’versty,” Caprey announced, standing up. “She should be rewarded, not punished.”

“I quite agree,” the warden stated, before turning to Madge. “Though I think you have something to add, do you not?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Nicholas stated that he felt harassed, abused, vio…”

“No!” the goat butted in, gasping. Madge paused slightly, looking up at him and scolding, before he carried on speaking over her. “I heard from ther fox himself. Felt like a good massage and all. He was happy!”

“Given that in the ZPD jail she caused serious injuries to him, and that he said he was contemplating suicide over being kept with her, I highly doubt that,” she hissed back, pausing at the end as her collar warmed up to orange.

“Nah… First I ever heard of it. Is this ther same Nicholas?”

“Yes!” she insisted, before turning back to the confused looking warden. “Damien has been a good prisoner, and apparently Nick would prefer to be a cellmate with him. It would make things easier and all, and if that didn’t happen we might be finding a dead prisoner in a week or so.”

“Damien?” Caprey piped in. “Ther one who poisoned his brother? I hear he was highly unstable. And sick too.”

“He’s a fox, and I think that’s a far more suitable cellmate for another fox than a rhino,” Madge announced, before turning forwards. “Now, Nigel, please. It would weigh on my conscious if he died because he was left with someone who made his life a living hell!”

“So why are you trying to do tha’? He’s with someone making it a living heaven. He said so himself!”

“QUIET. BOTH YOU TWO!”

Both paused, turning to face the warden. He shook his head slightly, rubbing it, before waving both of them off. “You both gave me a headache, you know? Arguing like joey’s, you lot… This and that thing with the hoof, this is most unlike both of you. Now, I’m going to check with a few other guards and confirm that that rhino did save that foxes life. If so, I’ll release her. I’ll also go talk to that fox myself when I next can, as that’s about the only way I’ll get the truth given that you two are disagreeing like that. As for you, I think you both have places you need to be. Understood?”

“Certainly,” Caprey replied with a smile. “And sorry about all tha’.”

Madge just nodded, and turned to leave, hurrying out of the office. Exiting it quickly, she rushed over to one of the chairs and sat down, burying her head in her paws and groaning. Her collar was a threatening orange, and she began to breathe deeply as she tried to stay her nerves. What was supposed to of been a simply meeting had gone catastrophically, and she was tired, angry and humiliated. At the very least though, the warden would be going to see Nick, so that issue would get resolved.

…

The soft prick of a hard object over each of her toes woke her slightly, before she felt her collar being yanked up and forwards. Eyes wide open and the cut of the plastic on her neck, she saw Caprey’s face fill her vision as he pulled her up to him.

There was a beep, and her collar gave off a small shock, making her wince.

“You deserve more than tha’” the goat hissed, his suddenly foul breath making her want to gag. “You chomper scum all belong on ther other side of ther bars. Your hero fox is gonna die like scum like him should die, and I’ll make sure of it if yer try and help him. And you should learn yer place, and know that if he gets a cell transfer and is then executed by prey inmates… it’s on you!”

Closing her eyes, Madge growled out a command, pushing the air past the increasingly tight pull of her collar. “Put me down.”

“Why? Wha’ yer gonna do?” He asked, as a sadistic grin grew across his face. Madge gulped, knowing he was enjoying this. “Yer think the w _aaa’_ rden will believe his favourite guard hurt yer? Where’s yer proof, huh? Or he’ll just move yer ter another block, away from yer fox, who’ll be alone with me! You’ll be under another w _aaa’_ rden too, who’ll remember that you’re a chomper… Honey badger, stupid kinda mammal. Still a chomper though.”

“Put… me…” she creaked out, before straining to pull in a breath. She saw the goats face begin to go blurry, and felt dizzy as four Byron Caprey’s spoke out.

“Ther was a honey badger called Honey Badger working with him,” he commented. “Badger, that is yer name?”

“Common…. Surname…” she croaked, before feeling the strain release. Falling back down onto her chair, she began gasping for breath, her whole-body trembling. Caprey stepped back and brushed down his uniform, before turning to face the opening door.

“Everything dandy out here?” the warden asked, peeking out. “I just thought I heard something…”

“Jus fine…” Caprey happily said, moving closer to block out his view before reaching into his pocket and pulling out another ten-buck note. “Yer know, twenty isn’t tha’ much. How ‘bout thirty for our hero rhino.”

“I… Didn’t you give me ten just now?” he asked.

“Twenty, most definitely,” Caprey said with a smile, as he handed the note over.

“Sorry, I…” the koala said, suddenly sound less sure of himself. He turned and walked back in, closing the door behind him.

“Now then,” he lectured, pushing his hoof down onto Madge’s nose. “Back ter work.”

She nodded, stood up, and hurried away. The breath and the pain and the fear controlled her, and she ran. She raced down the corridors and through the doors and checkpoints, all of them merging into a blur that she didn’t even register. Sometime in it, she entered through security and into the infirmary, barely noticing as she got her uniform on. Other colleagues as well as patients passed back, and she didn’t even notice them.

…

Sometime later, she opened her eyes.

They stung, while her paws were wet.

Looking around, she noticed she was in one of the toilets.

She didn’t remember entering it.

Standing up, she winced slightly at a sting from her neck. An exploratory push from one of her claws shifted her collar, and the pain flared up again.

She sniffed in, smelling the scent of burnt fur.

Looking down, she noticed she still had twenty minutes before her shift began.

Gritting her teeth, she bowed down and curled up, beginning to cry once more.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After the random takedown, the fanfic version of Alriac is back and up. In addition, that giant review for Take a stand: Stars of Ceartais I mentioned that I was doing is up on reddit in case you want to check it out.

**Chapter 14**.

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TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

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Dear Mel.

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I remember when the letters started coming out. I was excited to hear that he was continuing his fight, not giving up even after he'd been hauled away.

Of course, there was worry at some of his reports from in the prison. Reports of abuse and all.

However, a thought occurred to me recently.

How did we actually verify they were his? And how did they get out in the first place?

From the records I examined, he didn't have any friends or family visit during his stay, did he?

Doesn't help that those closest to him were fugitives in a foreign embassy, certainly.

In the interests of journalistic thoroughness, could you fill in the gaps in my knowledge?

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Love, Grima.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

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Dear Grima.

.

I can actually answer this, given that it was something I was also interested in.

The letters were smuggled out by a fellow prisoner, one by the name of Damien Watcher, who was sentenced to life in prison for the murder of his brother. Sadly, he has passed away since the events we're covering and is thus unable for interview. Along with the natural sadness I have for someone passing away, I can't help but think that we've lost the most useful source of information about Wilde's experiences.

After being given to his (non-dead) brother, the letters would then be re-addressed to the Reptoslav embassy. As well as the main texts present, they would include a small excerpt for his fugitive friends, which would recount a past event that they remembered well.

Combined with the fact that all members of the group had distinct handwriting, and that the samples I've seen of Wilde's writing are clear matches to the letters, I think it's conclusive that these weren't forgeries.

Given my estimates on the efficiency of the Zootopian postal service, and the arrival of the first letter, I'm presuming that Nick began sending them out after three or four days incarcerated.

Regards,

Mel.

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TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

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Mel.

.

Could you give an example of one of these memories?

Love, Grima.

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TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

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Dear Grima.

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The most humorous one likely involves a marsupial pride event.

.

Reportedly, they sneaked into this event to get the 20% discount card that the city was giving out in order to encourage more marsupials to move from the overcrowded and semi-independent outback island (the city district, not the actual outback provinces) to the city proper (another attempt to fix their perennial underpopulation and tax hole issues). Being natural opportunists, Wilde and co decided to take advantage of this, given that it would mean sale tax refunds on their future purchases (just to clarify: this wasn't a marsupial specific card, rather a general one being handed out at a special event).

Now, you may be about to point out that they aren't marsupials, and in that case you're right.

However, using a cheap fur-dye kit, Nick was reportedly able to pose as a pretty convincing thylacine. Sandy/ dark yellow, with darker stripes. It was a hot summer, so the worst his tail needed was a light shave, and then its remaining bushiness could be explained off as a fashion statement.

The finishing touch was that they had salvaged a broken 'man pouch' from the skip. I'm not sure if you're familiar with these, but they replicate the function of a female's pouch and can be worn by men. Initially designed to help widowers with pouch aged joey's, they spiked in popularity a decade ago or so when co-parenting became more fashionable.

Into said pouch went Finnick, who dressed up as a thylacine cub and, sans clothes, resided in there as further proof (using a fake fur covering to semi-hide his collar). The final touch was a urine stained rag, in order to simulate the smell.

Much detail went into the smaller fox's reactions to the whole idea, as well as the string of complaints he had about it afterwards. No-one but Nicholas Wilde could know that much.

However, in order to avoid having 'my face bitten off', I've been advised not to publish said story.

Instead, I recommend a birthday recount or something.

Love,

Mel.

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TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

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Dear Mel.

Thanks for the info. Will heed your advice.

BTW, how did that hustle go?

Did it work?

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TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

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Yes and No.

The disguise worked perfectly, and no-one was the wiser.

However, reportedly, a thylacine was 'not the kind of marsupial' they were looking for (though the actual wording may have been a lot more blunt than this).

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TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

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Dear Mel.

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You know, that is the most mammalian response I could ever imagine.

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* * *

 

.

.

Flanked by two guards he didn't know, Nick stepped through the open gate and back into his cell block. He stood alone as the pair retreated behind the wall of bars and closed it tight, ceiling him in.

"Any news on any cell changes?" he asked.

The one guard was silent, the other shrugged and grunted. They turned and left, as did Nick.

The ground level of the block was full of prisoners, of multiple sizes and types, all doing little or nothing. The tables present were filled with board games, primarily chess or checkers, which were silently being played. Nick noticed that, as each game concluded, the playing pair would retreat to a line by the walls, from which a replacement pair of mammals would then step up.

The queue was long, and Nick didn't feel in the mood for board games.

He walked up to his cell, passing by other inmates in their own, staring at the ceiling or reading, and entered.

There was no one there.

Climbing up onto his top bunk, he smiled as he saw the small shoebox that laid on it, a collection of puzzle books being the primary occupants. Resting it to the side, he curled up on himself, tail over nose, and shuffled down into the hard mattress. In his mind, he pictured the little honey badger cub he'd seen, dressed up to honour him, and the many other kits and cubs who'd done the same. He thought it best to rest and, as he did so, he wondered what the other mammals outside, both for him and against him, were up to.

.

 

.

* * *

 

.

.

Parking her cruiser outside the thin alleyway, Judy carefully exited it and looked around. The entire precinct knew this to be a pred heavy area, and given all she had been taught she knew that meant she had to be on guard.

It had been just a coincidence to her, up until that point, that the official figures recorded this as one of the safest places to patrol. Not the most crime free, indeed it was on the opposite side of the spectrum in that regard, but it had low rates of violent crime and few officers ever came back with worse injuries than the odd foot cut. Now though, as she noted the predators strolling about, their collars clinging tightly to their necks, she began to think about the whole logic behind such warnings. Preds were dangerous, it was something that had been drilled into her in the academy so often that it was like background noise. But were they?

She studied a female ocelot who was walking along, guiding a young kitten by her side. The cat paused, noticing how she was staring, before her collar went up to orange and she scurried along at twice the speed.

Biting her lip and thinking, Judy shrugged and stepped straight into the alley. The preds in there were more scared of her than she was of them, she realised. That and the fact that their collars made fighting back against tasers and pepper sprays pointless. As foreign and illogical as it seemed to be, Judy knew that it was poor elephant and hippo neighbourhoods that she should truly be cautious around, and not the predator slums. It was a bitter pill to keep down though, even though she'd come to realise that it was the truth.

As for the collars themselves….

She rubbed her forehead, still without any idea on where to stand on that. There was what she'd seen on the night Gazelle died, which told her that these things were anything but innocent. Then again, even if they were terrible, what if they were still necessary? Would it be just the same if they were gone, or would it be past the red line of more harm?

She pondered this as she carried on down.

Standing still as she reached a door, she checked the number and knocked three times.

.

No answer.

.

Picking out a pair of lock picks, given the huge effort and strain of breaking the door down with her feet, she hopped up and perched herself side-saddle on the door handle before getting to work. As she did so, she comforted herself knowing that at the end of this path she might find the answer to those questions.

.

.

With a click, the lock was undone, and Judy entered.

Behind the door was a tiny lobby, with a staircase rising up to her right, and a floor covered with unopened letters. Bank statements, junk mail, magazines, several debt collection warnings and a bold-faced eviction notice.

Gathering them up and placing them all in an evidence bag, Judy turned and walked up the steps. The floorboards under the musty carpets creaked under her light weight, and she sidestepped a small hole punctured into one of them. Pausing, and spotting fragments of grey and white fluff, she pinched and catalogued them also.

The living area looked like two bedrooms which had been sealed off from the rest of their house and knocked together, before being adapted into a living area for one. The narrow passageway carried on slightly, the corner of the flat filled in with a small bathroom unit, before it opened up wide into an all in one living space. Carrying on from the wall the bathroom was attached to was a kitchenette, with one of the white oven units that had an eye-level grill and had been out of fashion a decade ago.

It was filthy.

A small set of pots and pans had been left to putrefy, as if after the last meal here the owner had chosen to never clean up. She was nervous about what the fridge would be like, and when she opened it she realised that she'd been right to be. Flinching back at the pungent odour, she managed to look in and see some rotting vegetables and fish, along with a bottle of milk that was ribbed with blue streaks.

Nothing was out of the ordinary though, so she closed it and carried on with her search.

The front of the room was actually well set out. On one wall was the bed, the duvet on the ground and a single solitary tear cut the bedsheet from side to side. She smiled slightly though as she noticed the duvet's deep blue and purple colour, speckled with yellow crescent moons.

"At least I grew out of my carrot print covers when I was sixteen," she commented, kneeling down to look underneath the bed. It was filled with ruffled up bags and suitcases, containing clothes and changes of bedding but not much else. Close to the edge though there was a small fragment of fabric. Judy picked it up and compared it to the material the torn sheet was made of.

They were identical.

Putting them away, a frown appearing on her face, the bunny cop turned and began walking back out, leaning over and carefully scanning the carpet as she went. Stopping by the door, she pulled out a set of tweezers and began picking up bits of fluff as she went back to the bed.

It was as she stood upright again that she glanced at the wide front window of the property. It was a big bay one, and bits of furniture had been arranged around the edge to provide a long bench, covered with several beanbags. In the space beneath lay a host of books, while on top lay just one.

Closed.

A page marker about two thirds of the way through it.

Stepping up, Judy rested herself against the beanbag and looked out onto the busy main street below.

A light drizzle was starting, and predators were quickly scurrying under cover or popping up umbrella's, hiding from it.

Cars went past, and shop doors opened and closed.

A pair of stoats paused as they approached Judy's car, and she leant forwards to watch them. The male shook his head, and the female seemed to say some sort of prayer, before carrying on.

Up in the window, Judy frowned at the sight, taking the time to look down at her bronze badge and cradle it slightly in her paws. Releasing it, she sighed, noticing at the same time a dirty coffee cop by the window.

Jumping off onto the ground, she studied the preserved time capsule of a mammal's life carefully, taking the odd picture with her phone, before her eyes rested on a pair of strange objects.

The first was a pair of well-made eclipse glasses, which could be explained if this mammal was a keen astronomer or traveller. The bed sheets certainly suggested that. However, the second item did not.

A cane.

A cane used by blind mammals to get around.

Thinking back to his biopsy, Judy knew that Rufus tracker had no registered disability. Could it be a loved one's, which he kept on after their passing for sentimental reasons?

The thoughts were cut from her mind suddenly, as she spotted a small but very useful piece of evidence.

Decorated with the cartoon visage of Nick Wilde riding in a minecart, arms up and a wide grin on his muzzle, was a calendar, showing last month all neatly filled in.

As an added bonus, Judy immediately knew what her next move would be. She quickly catalogued the evidence she'd seen, and called in the other investigators, while talking her plan over with Bogo. Approval was quick, and as she pulled her radio down she looked back to the picture of Nick, wondering how he was coping.

.

 

.

* * *

 

.

.

He wasn't sure how long it had been, only that he was bored. Sleep hadn't been something that he'd wanted from his rest and given the sounds and noise coming from the rest of the building, it wasn't something he was going to get.

Slipping off his bunk, he exited the cell and leant against the bars or the terrace. The light coming into the block hadn't changed in any way, so not much time had passed.

"Seven-thousand two-hundred and ninety-seven days to go…"

Looking down, he studied the movements of those below. Preds seemed to be sticking with preds, and prey with prey. They moved backwards and forwards, their order or reason unknown to him. He had a hunch though that he'd be able to work it out. It wasn't as if he had to do it in a hurry.

.

"Nick Wilde?"

His ears rose at the sound of his name, turning as they homed in on the croaky voice that said it. Looking to his side he saw the sickly-looking fox who'd tried to confront Lenora earlier, and had been warned away. The fox who Madge had said she'd try to get him in with.

"Damian?"

"Damien," he clarified. Stepping forwards, he looked at Nick with his pale green eyes and smiled an unnerving smile. "Matey, come to my room an' we can talk a little."

Nodding back, Nick did as he was told, wandering past his old cell to the waiting one just down the row. It was very much the same, bar some additional decorations, and both foxes sat down on the lower bunk and settled in. As he did so, his collar warmed up slightly, picking up his humour at the artwork in front of him.

"Classy."

"An' they say scum like me don't have any class."

"Well, I think that there's proof otherwise," Nick noted, as he took in the glossy black and white poster of a well-dressed mare, her fashion sense straight out of the forties yet still stunning. He turned to Damien, a question on his mind. "And what do the guards think?"

"I don't know," he shrugged. "I just notice that they always check underneath it every time they inspect my cell."

"Well of course they would," Nick pointed out. "It's a frickin' Rita Hayworth poster!"

"I know!" Damien mildly exclaimed, before ribbing Nick slightly. "But what's the worst I could do? Tunnel into next door?"

"I guess," Nick mused, as he stepped over and pulled the poster up, chuffing slightly at a small piece of graffiti that read 'apply pressure and time here'. He turned back to Damien, shaking his head. "Your doing?"

"No Matey," he croaked back, coughing slightly. "There already… Poster was my idea though."

He trailed off as he began to cough lightly, standing up as he did so and making his way to the water fountain. Nick settled back down onto the bunk and watched silently as he finished drinking, before reaching for a box of throat lozenges, taking a blue shaped one and placing it in his mouth and beginning to suck.

"Madge said I was supposed to be your new bunk mate, any news on that?"

"Nothing, Matey…"

Hearing the news, Nick closed his eyes and sighed slightly, rubbing his temples as he did so. "Got to be a few more days… A few more days…"

"If you want, I could try to kill her."

The words sent a shock through Nick's body and, opening his eyes, the fox looked nervously at the mammal to his right. "No, I…"

Damien cut him off with a wave of his paw. "So, the hero pred is a goody two-shoe's, huh? My piece of filth brother was only a lifelong jerk, an' I was fine knocking him off. But some stranger rhino that's using you as a plush toy and destroyed your junk? Can't hurt her!"

Looking away, Nick let his eyes narrow as he thought, the unpleasant feeling of the offer, and what it would entail, still present all through him. "So… What if I am a goody two-shoe's? What is it to you?"

The other fox looked at him for a second, before shrugging. "Nothing, Matey. It's just an offer. I haven't done anything worthwhile ever in my life. It'd be a laugh to help a hero out."

"And what," Nick asked quizzically, his head tilting slightly. "Throw away more years of your life?"

Damien huffed slightly, shaking his head. "Did nursey tell you I was in here for poisoning my brother?"

"Yeah, she mentioned it."

The sickly-looking fox snorted a bit, even laughing slightly, as he carried on. "I kind of poisoned myself."

"Oh."

"Apparently, I've got a dozen or so tumours eating away all around me, and my throat will eventually turn to mush… I don't have long left. Might as well have some fun in that time."

"And you count killing someone as fun?" Nick queried, suddenly feeling a bit nervous.

"It was metaphoric or something," Damien said, waving his paws up in the air and barking out a short laugh. He turned to Nick and shook his head. "Don't judge me or anything."

…

"I'll do my best."

Damien smiled slightly, before reaching around and patting Nick on his back. "That's the spirit. Now, how's life on the outside change this last decade?"

.

The next hour or so was spent by the two foxes telling tales to each other. It wasn't much, but Damien enjoyed the stories of how Wild Times came to be, as well as a few select misadventures that occurred before then. Nick, meanwhile, listened on intently to the parables the more experienced convict-fox was happy to share. Most of them followed the tale of some punk inmate who though himself above the rules, before eventually coming foul of the guards, gang members, or both. The experience both made Nick laugh, and helped him feel more at ease. Slowly but surely, the web of complex rules and etiquette that governed life in this place began to make more sense.

For once in his short stay, time began to flow by faster, until the whole experience ground crashing to a halt.

.

"Look whose back!"

"Hey tooty fruity!"

"Look whose horn's back from solitary…"

The cat calls, along with the thumping of heavy feet on the concrete floor, shook Nick and Damien from their conversation. The former, his collar warming up to orange and body trembling, stepped over to the front of the cell and peered down.

"Oh rut, she's back…"

"My option is still available."

Nick turned back and shook his head. "I'll… I'll play ball until Madge fixes this. She'll get it done soon, I'm sure. Sooner than you getting your poison or something."

"Just tryin' to be useful, Matey."

Nick frowned, before his eyes widened. "In the medical wing, I wrote some letters. Could you smuggle them to my pals?"

"What kind of letters?" Damien enquired, furrowing his brow as he did so.

"Ones telling those protestors out there not to give up!"

The sickly fox began to cackle lightly, nodding his head as he did so. "My kinda letters. My brother, the non-jerk one, is visiting later today, he comes once a week. I can give him instructions. Just give me them letters…"

Leaning down, Nick undid his fly and handed over some sheets of paper. Doing it up again, he stood up and shrugged. "See you soon."

"Option one still on the table!" Damien called, as Nick left the cell and vanished.

.

Ten minutes later, he was out of his cell and walking. He paused, however, as Lenora stomped out of her cell. In her hand she held one end of the bandage that had been wrapped around Nick's tail, the other end tied firmly around his collar.

He looked on at Nick, who trotted away on all fours, and shook his head. "Stupid, squeamish Wilde." Feeling an unpleasant tingle in his throat, he turned and went back to his cell. Resting down on his bed, he fished out a piece of paper from beneath his mattress and began reading.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

To my big Bro Finnick, and to my pals Spots and Honeybun.

.

It's me, I'm alive (just) and have at least one guardian angel in this stinking hellhole. I miss you every day (like I did that one time at Ben's 11th birthday, when a game of marco polo sent me into the underside of the kitchen table) and hope you're doing well. When Cherifa told me you were safe, I felt a great weight lifted off my shoulders.

Bar the pred hating guards who want to kill me by throwing me in with a mad rhino (I'm sure you'll get an explanation through soon) and the pred hating inmates who are happy to try and do it directly, things couldn't be rosier. Three days in, and I've only spent one in the medical ward and only had my life flash before my eyes the one time!

I'll be honest here. I think I'm currently a bit wrong in the head over all of this. But don't you worry about me, I think I've got a hold of some of that inner fire that self-help guru's keep talking about.

Speaking of which, I find it sad that we never got to do one of those. That would be a fun hustle, wouldn't it?

Old times, old times.

We'll meet again old friends. We'll meet again, and it'll be in better times.

.

Also, apparently, I'm some kind of hero now! So, tell me if this story sounds familiar?

Oppressed nobody tries to rebel against evil empire only to find, whoopsie, his family get taken from him. Double whoopsie, his attempts to fight again land him in the giant metal halls of said evil empire's dark fortress. Whoopsie number threesie, he's imprisoned there and broken and nothing changes, evil empire still stands.

Well, no it doesn't. Whoever remembers stories like that? Without a change to the third act (maybe involving space fighters and firing a missile through a tiny hole to blow said evil fortress up or something), who's ever going to dress up as the main character on hero day, or make a film about it, or turn it into memes or iconic adverts for the latest bits of tech!

I'm not gonna be that kind of schmuck. I may not be able to escape said evil fortress and then blow it up for good measure, but I'll make sure that I'm still a thorn in their side.

As you may have guessed, that's where you guys come in.

You may have noticed a second letter here, and I want you to give that to the protestors. I want this city to rue the day that it dared to imprison Nicholas Wilde!

.

As I said before, I miss you every day. I miss having to deal with Honey's highs and lows. I miss having to put up with Benny's pop music and stupid innocence. I miss the constant threat of having my face bitten off by Finnick.

I miss you all.

Nick.

.

.

.

Hello my fellow Chompers!

.

This is your good friend Nick Wilde speaking here. I am still alive, despite the best attempts of some prey mammals who occupy various positions in my new home. Due to them, though, I can't say that I am well.

I'd like to thank all of those who blockaded both the courthouse and the ZPD jail, your effort and chanting made me smile on very dark days indeed. I'd like to say the same thing to all the kits and cubs who chose to dress up as me for hero's day. Keep doing that,  _especially_ if it keeps on getting you more days off of school.

I've had time to think, and I've come to a simple conclusion. The prey mammals made my imprisonment a political point, despite it being shown that the events of Wild Times had nothing to do with my actions. So, let's make this a political point, shall we?

After all, they started it.

.

You are all good mammals, and are on the side of right. Wrong, though, is strong and powerful and cruel. They are the ones who steal away rights so seemingly integral and god given, the right to our very emotions, that it isn't even encoded in law. They are the ones who cause us hurt and then sneer and laugh at us, or distrust us and fear us.

They are the ones that history will hate.

They are the ones that, together, we can beat.

.

I don't know the why and how of my attacker. I don't know his motives, nor the motives of the organisation he works for. I do know though that they'll be attacking you, and the courts will certainly try to find methods for finding you guilty of crimes you aren't at fault for. I know that from experience.

It'll be tough. I'm sure many will despair at the injustices and the pain caused in our crusade.

But we can deal with those pains now, or just kick the can down the road.

Together, those are the pains we can beat.

.

I don't know how many vested interests there are in the collars. How many people who believe that supporting them is the right thing, or who despair at the idea of them coming off, due to how inferior they themselves feel. So weak and pathetic they choose to force these handicaps onto us to make us feel better.

They'll cry and oppose you.

They'll use their majority to claim moral superiority over you.

Together, these are things we can beat.

.

People want the collars because they want order, don't they? They think it means peace, they think it means safety, they think it means the rule of law and fairness?

Take those things away from them.

I'm sure some vandalism here and there can go a long way.

Cut down the power grids to prey heavy areas, though not to any emergency service. When the mayor stands for making the trains run on time, make sure they don't run on time! Ideally, make sure they don't run at all! Block the roads and pull down the trees. In the middle of the night, cut the rope bridges that people use to get to schools and work. Smashing a few windows is always fun, though don't attack anyone's homes. Stand and sit outside their offices and positions of power, waving your slogans and shouting your messages. That is the one place where I don't want you to break something. Just be there and be menacing.

What are they going to do?

Throw you all in jail?

As long as you do the naughty stuff when no-one's around, and play all safe and non-violent in daylight hours, they won't be able to play the savage pred card, will they?

All through this, make our message clear. We want collar free zones in each district. I know many of you will want to ban collars outright, but let's go one step at a time, shall we? As long as there's enough homes in each area to house that districts preds, I'm sure every one of you won't be picky over that victory.

And when those prey complain. When they complain about only being safe in the prison that is their homes; when they complain about being inconvenienced and harassed when they go outside; when they complain about being unable to do work, or their kids being affect, due to the actions of others; when they say they feel stressed and miserable outside, not knowing when things might get worse…

Tell them that that is all we want.

Tell them that their prison is our freedom.

And tell them how bad it must be for us now, for that to be the case.

.

I'll admit now that I don't know the best way for us to fight. I'm not trained in organisation of civil disobedience or anything, and have no idea if there's an easier or better way for us to go. Tough luck though, I'm the best you got.

And I don't think you'll mind that.

Anyway, I at least have plenty of time to mull over what I say.

Here's hoping for a better future for all of us.

.

Regards,

Nick Wilde.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The way the Nick parts are seperated is due to this chapter and the next two once being just two chapters. I split them up to make things flow better, but this bit lost out.  
> Regardless, any and all reviews and comments are very much appreciated.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: At the time of posting, I haven't received this chapter back from my proofer. However, I presume you'll prefer a few spelling mistakes to having to wait. When it gets proofed, I'll update this chapter with the fixed version.

**Chapter 15:**

.

It had been two days since that Rhino had returned from her stint in solitary, and two days where he’d felt his hope in Madge beginning to falter. Two days in which he’d had to let himself be humiliated and mistreated, being used as a living soft toy by his cellmate.

Remembering the cavity search on his intake, he was at least glad that he hadn’t been _that_ kind of prison vixen.

Still, though, he hated it.

He’d hoped that any second now a guard would come along and explain that he was being moved to a new cell.

But in all that time no guards came, and with the great looming presence above him, and their indifference to the whole matter, it wasn’t as if he could ask them on how it was going. Why it was taking so long? What on earth Madge was up to, and why she was failing at the one damn job she had to do?

He grumbled slightly, feeling down to his collar as if the action would let him register how it felt about how he felt.

He felt tired, and fed up, and increasingly impatient.

He’d cringed at the laughs from the many prey prisoners, and gritted his teeth at how the preds and guards merely looked away, guiltily or uncaringly respectively.

Right now, though, he began to groan as he was flipped onto his back and a large flat hand began to rub his belly.

“There’s a happy Georgina,” the rhino cooed. “Purr for mommy!”

Forcing the sound from his throat, Nick began to do so, relaxing slightly as his back slid into a more comfortable position.

“Purry purry puppy,” she said happily.

Not wanting to face her wrath for the crime of correcting her, he tried to drift off slightly in his position. Despite loathing her, he knew that at the very least she kept him safe. The zebra who’d tried to kill him still hadn’t returned, and while some prey mammals glowered at him, a quick look from his cellmate had sent them packing. As long as he stayed under her guard, he didn’t have to watch his back.

Which made him slightly nervous as he realised that such protection might not be around forever. The feeling of finality that had occurred when he thought he was about to die ran through his mind again, sending a chill down his spine and causing the short strands of fur on his ruined tail to bristle up.

“You okay Georgina?”

Snapped out of his train of thought, he looked up and nodded, before settling his head against her arm again.

Purring on as she kept up her rubbing, he remembered that if he were to move into Damien’s cell then he’d be still in contact with the Rhino for all the free hours of the day. He hated the idea, but at the same time found it reassuring. He guessed that he’d have his moments of dignity alone, and protection when he needed it.

He smiled slightly, nestling up further, before his eyes widened with shock.

The Rhino kept of kneading his stomach, and he kept on purring.

Without even trying.

Wiggling out of his comfy cubby hole, his eyes met those of his captor and he felt warmth in them, before pointing his muzzle down at the ground and welding his eyes shut.

 _‘You hate her, you dumb fox!’_ he thought to himself. _‘You hate her guts! Stopping purring and enjoying this for rut’s sake!’_

“Why you no longer purring?” Lenora asked, before her brow furrowed. “Do I need to give your ear tag a twist!”

_‘Purr again! Resume purring! Just make sure it’s you forcing it!’_

His vocalisations started again, and he carefully watched as the threatening gaze of his captor melted away. Closing his eyes and sighing with relief, he settled back into his moody misery. He felt the ear tag wobbled slightly as his ears moved, the rod piercing through creating a faint white-noise like ache as the drag from the plastic flap below shifted it about. He wished it would become infected or something, so he could get hauled off to the medical wing and be free for a bit.

And have some words with Madge.

 _‘She’ll be trying her best…’_ He pondered. _‘She might have done all she could have…’_

Another part of him rose up then, more bitter an angry. _‘Maybe she gave up like you asked her too you dumb fox! Maybe that’s why she didn’t visit you on your second day in the medical wing. Maybe she hates you now, given that she can’t see Honey anymore. Maybe she just never was your friend, rescind her Nick-name rights right now!’_

His thoughts were broken by the rapping of a truncheon on the cell wall, a light tan llama guard looking in. “Wilde, come with me.”

He felt the Rhino shift slightly, moving an arm up to block the interloper, only to pause as he moved in and gave her a glower. Conceding, Lenora dropped him down to the ground and pushed him forwards. Unsteady now he was back on two feet, Nick stepped forwards up the guard, who held a pair of cuffs in his hooves.

“We’ll be taking you out to one of the interview rooms,” he explained dully, as Nick held out his arms and watched as they were cuffed together tightly. From a line on his belt, the guard attached a chain to the one binding the cuffs and led him on. Looking behind him as he was walked out, the fox spotted the head of the rhino leaning out of her cell, keeping a close eye on him until he was taken out of the cell block.

Exiting, and travelling along featureless corridors, it was silent for a bit until the guard spoke up, Nick noticing a whining tone in his voice. “Were you doing anything lewd with that Rhino?”

“No.”

“Are you certain?”

“Yes,” Nick stressed.

“It didn’t look like that.”

“The fact that things aren’t lewd in that situation is about the only thing that I like about it,” he dryly commented.

“I’m pretty sure there’s more than that.”

Nick shrugged. “Maybe the fact that she beats up those who try to beat me up? You know, the job guards are supposed to do?”

“What, beating people to death?” the llama said, shocked slightly. “You know that’s wrong!”

Nick closed his eyes, and breathed in and out. “Scratch the beating to death part, that wasn’t meant to be in there. Just the stopping others from doing it to me.”

“Good, and I’ll have you know I aim to do that,” the llama announced sternly, reaching up to adjust his guard’s hat slightly. “Though some other guards do fail, or try out the beating themselves...”

“I’m quite familiar with that kind,” Nick grunted, as they turned right and began passing a row of interrogation rooms. He looked into them as he passed and let his head tilt to the side slightly, confused as to why he was here rather than the warden’s office as he’d hoped.

“So, you’ve met Carl then,” his escort noted, snapping the fox out of his train of thought.

“Don’t know, but-uh… Am I meeting the warden down here?”

“I was just told to bring you down,” the llama replied, adjusting his guard’s hat. “You were meant to meet the warden?”

“I was hoping to. To sort out that whole cellmate business!”

“If this isn’t him, I’ll pass on the word,” the guard clarified, as he stopped at a door and opened it. Led in, Nick silently sat down at a metal chair and watched as he was chained up to the table in front of him. Watching on, the guard began a prepared speech. “Please do not extend your arms so far as to put your elbows over the table. If you are verbally abusive, we reserve the right to end this interview and put you into solitary. If you are seen making threatening gestures and biting, we will muzzle you and carry on the process. Do you understand?”

“Yes sir,” Nick replied, before a little grin grew across his muzzle. “And-uh, in case of an emergency where are the nearest exits?”

The llama looked at him quizzically, before shrugging.

Nick’s grin got slightly larger. “Will there be a trolley service coming through?”

His question remained unanswered, and Nick settled back into his cold hard chair, looking up at the grey concrete ceiling as he heard a door being opened. Sniffing the air, he smelt a familiar scent, confusing given that he thought koala would be a foreign one. Spotting a bit of grey in the corner of his eye, he looked down, and his eyes went wide as the reason for this became clear.

“Carrots?”

“Hey Nick, long time no see,” Judy replied as she walked over to her chair, pausing slightly as she glanced over at him. Her nose twitched and she stepped back, studying him in more detail, before gasping as she saw his shaved brush. “Nick, your tail…”

His eyes widening, the fox flicked his tail out to his side, waving its bare form out. “Yeh,” he replied sarcastically. “Regulation.”

“I… well, I suppose it wasn’t so bad as the ear tag,” she said nervously. “Enjoying that new look?”

“No,” he said with a shrug. “I don’t really mind the tag though, bar when Lenora threatens to yank it. I’d take it over brush murder any day of the week.”

Judy looked on at it for a few seconds before turning to hop up into her chair, her ears drooping down and curling under her chin as she did so. “Well, I guess it might be like us bunnies and our ears. Seeing that thing through yours…” She paused, rubbing the back of a paw against an ear as a feeling, not unlike the one she got from smelling the contents of that fridge, rose up in her. She swallowed it down before looking up again. “Say what you want about there being so few bunny criminals due to us being cute and innocent. I think that’s the real reason there.”

“Ha,” Nick grunted, smiling slightly. “Maybe if they made it regulation that all fox brushes got wax stripped, we’d have no foxes committing crimes. You lot arresting us for them though…” He paused and smiled, giving Judy a wink.

She brushed it off, before bringing out a folder. “You may be wondering why I’m here…”

“Wanting to catch up with your favourite foxy frenemy?” Nick suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

Judy stood up and looked at him casually. “I think we’ve already deviated far from the professional level of indifference, so no harm in saying that I considered it a little bonus... But the main reason I’m here is to just ask a few questions about your wolf.”

As she spoke she brought out a set of five pictures, all showing wolves, and pushed them forwards. “While I can’t reveal everything about my investigation, we found a body with a note reportedly from the same wolf that attacked you. This ‘Lupus Savage’. Our DNA database and other records showed extensive contamination by a wolf which we will refer to as ‘wolf R’. One of these is a picture of ‘wolf R’, would you be able to pick him out?”

Nick leant forwards and examined the photographs, his ears twitching as he did so. Judy, her eyes fixed on his, bar the occasional squeamish dart to his tagged ear, looked on patiently as he scanned over and over the faces.

Looking back up, he shrugged and pushed them all forwards. “None of these look like him fluff,” he said, shaking his head. “In fact, I’m pretty sure one is a coyote.”

“Are you sure?” Judy asked.

“Certain,” Nick replied. “I have the way his face and muzzle were shaped, the way his eyes looked out at you and the markings on his face all imprinted in my memory. Very clear. They were all, shall we say, very unique.”

“Unique in what way?” Judy asked, hurriedly grabbing a notepad and carrot pen, reading to write stuff down.

“I… well the face of the shape is hard to explain,” Nick began, “but it seemed a bit short, square, very stocky… almost like he was stuck at the beginning of a snarl. Kind of…” He paused, turning up to the guard and opening his palms. The llama nodded and, turning back to Judy, Nick pulled his nose back and the bridge of his muzzle up, baring the sides of his teeth slightly. The bunny cop, pulling out her phone, took a few pictures, both from the front and the sides, before nodding at him to carry on.

“The eyes seemed a bit recessed but also bulging a tiny bit, almost like they were sunken into a mask or something,” he continued. “The markings meanwhile were like the picture in the centre, but a lot more well defined. Very clean fur, almost like he was cell shaded a bit.”

“Could you clarify?”

Nick puckered up his mouth, reaching an arm up to scratch his chin only to have it stopped by the yank of the chain. Frowning, he continued on regardless. “He was mostly white, a very nice white with few spots of grey. His greys and browns meanwhile were the same. Very grey, very brown. The borders between the patches could have been drawn with a pencil too.”

“That’s… that’s very useful, thankyou Nick,” Judy replied, smiling slightly.

“And if you have any fur, check for lots of shampoo,” he added. “He was using some kind of fur conditioner for sure, I can still remember the smell. Very unique or a wolf…”

The bunny cop nodded slowly. “Care to elaborate?”

The fox closed his eyes and hummed slightly, thinking. “I’d almost say he smelt a bit sheepish… Don’t they have special fat to keep their wool waterproof? It might be that his shampoo was a brand for sheep. Might not be much, but it could help the investigation. I hope it helps.”

“Thanks for that, and I hope so too,” Judy said, cheerily. “Hopefully we can get him in time for when your first chance of appeal comes up! It’s only three months away before the option opens, if I remember.”

Nick smiled at that, but didn’t respond.

As if expecting a reply, Judy stayed quiet, an uncomfortable silence filling the room.

Her paw went up to scratch her ear and she looked away guiltily, while the convict fox looked up to the guard for any cues.

None came.

Pausing slightly, Judy’s mouth wiggled before she slowly carried on, her voice quieter, more nervous, but also friendlier. She was unsure of whether this was the correct thing to say in such an environment, but she somehow felt that it was the right thing. “I’ve been thinking. I said before that I wasn’t sure whether you should be going to jail or not, but now…”

“Now what?” Nick asked, filling in the silence as Judy paused.

“I don’t think you belong here,” Judy said quietly, nodding before looking up. Nick looked at her, eyes opened wide but a small and sincere grin on his muzzle. “I… I’ve also been thinking a bit about something else…”

“Oh, have you now?” he replied, intrigued.

“I’m really not sure on the collars now, and all that stuff,” the bunny cop said sadly, sighing as she did so. She let out a tiny guffaw, before carrying on. “I used to think of things in very black and white terms, and it seems like everything is so muddled up now. I don’t have an answer either way, and to be fair I don’t trust myself anymore to be able to come up with one. Well, a good one at least. I-uh, I read that letter of yours…”

Nick’s ears perked up at the news that it was out, and he looked up and smiled.

“Before, I’d be angry at how irresponsible you were being, but…” Judy paused, looking at him and shrugging. “Well, I think there’s now a tiny part of me that wants you to win.”

“Aaaww,” Nick cooed, bringing his paw up to his chest. “I’m touched, Carrots.”

A sassy look on her face, Judy raised her finger and wagged it at him. “Don’t get cocky, Kit.”

“Me? Cocky? For shame!” Nick replied melodramatically, his arm swoons cut short greatly by his chains.

Smiling at first, Judy’s face turned into a concerned frown. “And keep yourself safe.”

“Well,” Nick muttered glumly. “I suppose that the one perk of my living arrangements is having a rhino bodyguard…”

…

There was a pause, before Judy’s ears rose up slightly.

“Wait, what?” she asked, suddenly confused.

“I hate her guts, but Lenora saved my life once, so…”

“Lenora!?”

“Yeah,” Nick shrugged, “I mentioned I was with her before.”

“How…” she stuttered, shocked by the revelation. “I… I thought that was a joke or something!”

“Sadly not.”

“They… they can’t do that!” she exclaimed, horrified at the whole state of affairs. “They know what she did to you, don’t they?”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the reason I was put there!” Nick replied back bitterly, pausing as he heard his collar warm up to orange.

Judy’s ears meanwhile drooped down behind her head, and she turned to the guard for clarification. He nodded, and she looked back at Nick. “We need to fix this!”

“The head vet said she’s try to contact the warden,” Nick explained. “But that was two days ago and…”

“Well, I’ll just have to make a detour then,” Judy announced standing up in her chair. “I’ll see you again soon Nick, but now, a talk with the warden of this joint!”

“Thanks Judy,” Nick called, watching as she hopped down and began jogging over to the door. The guard unlocked it and pulled it open for her. “See you,” he added, pulling up a paw into a little wave as she began walking through.

“You too,” she replied, holding her own paw up before vanishing. The door closed behind her and the guard came back to Nick, unlocking him and taking him back to his cell.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Flustered slightly, Madge Badger sat down outside the warden’s office. Letting her foot tap slightly, and her eyes look around nervously, she studied the sheet of paper in her paw once again. The latest accommodation schedule, and, like the ones before, it had Nick in with Lenora. She sat back in her chair, trying to calm herself down.

Caprey wasn’t due in just yet.

She hadn’t booked an appointment, so it wasn’t like one of his allies could spot that and intercept her.

She just had to wait for the warden and convince him to move Nick, and then all would be good.

.

She hoped…

.

Checking the wall clock again, she chewed at her lip as she saw the minute hand slowly approaching the end of her break period. She had ten minutes or less, before she would have to wait another day.

Before he would too.

The idea gnawed at her, especially with the news on the grapevine being that Lenora was back out of solitary early.

.

Time ticked on, and Madge’s ears rose as she heard a pair of soft and fast footsteps approaching. Turning to face the corner of the waiting room, her eyes widened slightly as a bunny dressed in a police uniform marched right passed her and began knocking on the door.

There was a pause.

She then raised both fists and began knocking the door rapidly, as if she were boxing.

She carried on until, with a final flourish, she gave an extra large knock, before giving up. Stepping back slightly and taking a few deep breaths, she inspected her knuckles before turning to face the watching honey badger. “Hi, is the warden in?”

“No, I’m pretty sure he’s out on his lunch break,” Madge replied. “And I’ve spent my entire one here waiting for him, hoping to intercept him and talk to him on a very pressing matter. A matter that could be life or death. So, and I’m sorry if you don’t like this, I will have to go first. I’ll be quick though, I promise…”

Judy’s nose twitched once or twice, before she turned and hopped onto one of the seats. “A simple no would have sufficed,” she said warmly.

Madge flashed a smile, before shrugging. “Well, I think that a lot of strife comes from not getting enough of your point across. I find it easier to give everyone plenty of information, and it makes it harder for them to forget that ‘no’ as well.”

The bunny nodded slightly, before offering her paw. “Judy,” she said, introducing herself.

“Madge,” came the reply, along with a paw shake.

…

“So, matter of life or death?” Judy asked slowly, her ears rising up high as she let go and brought her paw back.

“It’s likely very confidential, so I won’t be able to really tell you,” the honey badger explained. “It’ll likely be something similar with you, no doubt.”

“Well, probably more extreme discomfort,” the bunny replied. “I was just here to interview a prisoner as part of an ongoing investigation, turns out he was put in a cell with someone who injured him grievously in the precinct jail. I’m here to make sure that gets fixed, given that the warden and head vet have so far been totally useless.”

There was a harsh beep, and all eyes quickly trained on Madge’s now orange collar. Looking over at her uniform, Judy’s ears drooped down over the back of her head and she sighed. “Let me guess,” she groaned, feeling a hot rush of humiliation flow through her. “Head vet?”

“Yes.”

“Here about Nicholas Wilde…?”

“Uh-hu.”

“Probably just as concerned as I am.”

“Incredibly, likely more so,” Madge replied. “I came here two days ago to try and get the warden to try and move Wilde to a new cell, and a guard comes in at the same time and says that Nick’s loving it there. The warden, whose head is likely spinning at this point, decides that he’ll talk to Nick himself and get the definitive answer. That hasn’t happened yet. I’m here to find out why.”

“I heard he was with her and chose to demand the warden moves him,” Judy said back. As she did so a soft padding of feet could be heard and, around a corner, the warden appeared.

“G’day there,” he offered with a smile, waving over at the two.

Madge breathed a sigh of relief, and spoke up. “Nigel, Nicholas Wilde is still in that cell! Have you talked to him yet? As I said before, this is most…”

“Calm down, calm down,” the warden interrupted, bringing his arms up and waving her down. “It’s on my schedule for tomorrow. I’d have done it earlier, but more important things keep coming up and pushing it back.”

“Oh!” Judy butted in. “Things like what? What could be more important than the key wellbeing of one of your prisoners.”

“The wellbeing of multiple ones, miss,” he replied, his tone a hint angrier. “The last two days have been crazy, I tell you. I’ve had guards coming in left and right, talking about malfunctions and issues and all sorts. I’ve been on the phone to the roofers after tears were found. We’ve had electrical issues and plumbing leaks… An entire wing lost its water supply while two of the five showers went cold. It’s like a gremlin got into the system!

“I… I haven’t heard about any of that,” Madge said slowly, confused by the news.

“Yeah, you lot are lucky, thankfully. Medical wing was completely unaffected,” the warden replied.

Madge’s eyes widened as she had a dark realisation, though she quickly filed it away, lest she end up sounding as paranoid as her sister in public. “Regardless,” she carried on calmly, “we’re going to need you to do that interview today.”

“Interview, just move him!” Judy ordered.

The warden looked down at her and smiled. “You have a lot of spunk in you, don’t you?”

Judy was taken aback, phasing out slightly before snapping back into reality as the koala continued.

“I like that. Now, I have vital talks with roofers and such today, so I don’t have any time to spare. But I promise both of you, I’ll talk to him early enough tomorrow so that, if he does want to move, I can file the paperwork and get him into his new cell before I leave. Now, talking of paperwork, if you don’t mind me…”

He brushed past the two and entered his office, closing the door behind him. Judy looked at Madge and blinked slightly, while she let out a deep breath and turned to her. “I hope you don’t judge me as crazy, but if I were a betting person I’d have an awful lot of chips on those ‘malfunction’ being the work of some of the guards. A particular set of guards. The ones who chose to put Nick in there to begin with. I’ll make sure Nick is safe, don’t you worry.”

“I’ll try not to,” Judy replied, as she began walking away. The two split, going in different directions, with Madge returning to the medical wing and Judy to the civilian entrance. As she travelled, she sidestepped a sheep guard who was coming up the other way, neither of them paying each other any attention.

As she disappeared from his view, he brought out his radio and clicked it on. “Ramched, over.”

“Caprey, over,” replied a slur-accented voice from the other end.

“Distractions are over, I told you we wouldn’t be able to keep this going for long. I say we stop playing with our new toy and just finish this once and for all.”

“Sounds good ter me,” the goat replied from his vantage point, up above Nick’s cellblock. Looking over, he cracked his hooves before leaning forwards, pondering just how he’d do this. The llama guard who’d escorted Wilde out earlier, Paul, was in, and arguing with his work mate Carl, again. In the fox’s cell, he could see the guarding mass of the Rhino, once an asset and now an obstacle. Looking down, he spotted a group of sheep bikers, in for life for a string of gang murders. They were a gang infamous for harassing Preds.

Caprey settled back in his chair and smiled, a plan slowly beginning to form.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground.
> 
> Also, I'm afraid there may be some mistakes, given that my proof reader seems to have gone completely afk. I'm sorry about this, and it may be a long while before I can find someone to take over.

**Chapter 16**

.

.

Judy tapped her foot repeatedly as she waited, internally cursing herself for not taking the car she’d used to visit Nick the previous day.

.

Checking the address again, she sighed at the pettiness of it all.

.

Just one station away from the stop, a mere two minutes, yet she’d been waiting here for ten minutes now.

The entire train was stuck, the only news on the cause being an announcement five minutes ago that they were being held at a signal.

In all her years in the city, Judy had never been held like this for more than a minute and, even then, it had been in a tunnel as they waited for the train in front to clear.

Her feet feeling the ground shake, she looked up and hopped out of the way of some hippos who’d given up on waiting, instead choosing to bail from the train. They exited onto the platform, joining more mammals doing the same, and as the doors closed the bunny thought she saw some graffiti scrawled on the tiled wall.

.

.

.

Checking her phone again, Judy grunted as she saw that five more minutes had passed. There was no mobile signal too, even though she could see the sunlight pouring in down one of the staircases.

.

.

Moving to the side again, she let a small group of pica’s past. They exited through one of the smaller train doors, and Judy only got a glimpse of the concrete platform before it closed once more.

.

.

.

Jumping onto a now spare seat, in what had once been a standing room only train, she waved her feet a bit before her ears rose, the tune of the PA system ringing out.

“ _I’d like to inform you that, unfortunately, this train has been cancelled due to a signal failure. I apologise for any inconvenience caused._ ”

A collective groan was released as mammals got up and made for the doors. Judy, staying in place and waiting for the flow to reduce, listened on as one ibex irately complained about being more annoyed that he wasn’t told earlier than at the actual cause of the delay, before slipping off her chair and following him out.

The queues up to street level were long, so Judy held back, looking around as she waited for things to become less crowded. Her eyes wandered to an information screen and she blinked as she saw that there were line closure warnings on each and every section of the network. Every subway train in Zootopia was stationary, and this was the day she chose to leave the cruiser back at the precinct.

Closing her eyes and letting a deep breath in and out, her chest puffing up as she did so, she turned to make her way out and paused, looking on at the piece of graffiti.

‘ _Your prison is our freedom’._

Her eyes widening slightly, she huffed and groaned, shaking and flicking her head as she exited the station. She checked the address written down, and headed off.

.

Four flights of steps up on a grimy concrete deck, Judy hopped up and pressed the doorbell. A shrill ring rung out, and someone inside called, ‘ _just a minute.’_

There were footsteps, and the rattling of several chains, before the door was carefully opened. A grey she-wolf, her cheek jowls sagging slightly and the odd white hair in her fur, poked her nose out and looked down. “Yes,” she said, her eyes widening as she saw Judy’s uniform.

“Hi, Judy Hopps, ZPD,” the bunny introduced herself.

“Miriam Tracker,” the wolf reciprocated nervously, gulping slightly. She flinched as the harsh beep of her collar going orange rang out, but pushed through as she spoke. “I… is anything the matter. I… I promise you I keep to myself and aren’t in any…”

Judy, her eyes widening at the scene, stepped forwards and butted in. “I’m here to ask you about your son. Rufus Tracker?”

The she-wolf’s voice hitched, before her tense body relaxed suddenly. She sighed, and managed a tiny smile, before opening the door and waving Judy in. “I’m sorry,” she began. “I get nervous around the police you see, I… I had a bad run in a few years back.”

“Oh,” Judy said as she stepped inside into a small hallway, the walls decorated in what were once vibrant colours, though time had dulled the wallpaper and made the whole place seem drab. The mood seemed to leech onto the wolf as she stepped past Judy and began to make her way down a set of steps. She followed, carefully speaking as she did so.

“What happened?”

The wolf tensed up slightly, pausing for a second on the stairs before carrying on down. “I kept having these teenagers picking on me,” she said slowly. “A small pack of vicuna or guanaco… I can’t tell the difference I’m afraid. Snatching my things, throwing water… pepper spray.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” Judy soothed, as they exited into a lounge that looked like it hadn’t been changed since the turn of the millennium. Miriam waved Judy to a settee that lay across from a bulky grey tv, deeper than it was wide, and then wandered off through a door and into a kitchen on the other side of the building. “Did the police not do anything?”

“Do you want a hot drink or anything? I usually have tundra-berry tea, but there’s the usual stuff as well.”

“I’ll try the tea, it sounds nice,” Judy called, as the clinking of mugs and the rumble of a kettle came out.

“It is. My little Rufy couldn’t stand the stuff I’m afraid. Took after his father in that regard, though that’s the only thing that really linked him to Al, other than his relationships not working out... As for the police…” She let out a long sigh, before carrying on. “I remember once when those hoodlums snatched my bags and threw them off the deck. I was angry, so got buzzed you see, and by the time I got down there they’d beaten me to the chase. There was an officer there… and…”

Judy waited as the pause carried on, before Miriam walked out of the kitchen with two mugs in her paws. Sitting down on a chair across from her, she settled them down on a coffee table between them. Pulling the little infusers out of each of them, a mix of white and blue berries and dark green herb sprigs in each, she took a sip of her drink. Judy, taking some time to look at the liquid, almost cobalt blue in colour, tentatively tried it before smiling at the pleasant earthy flavour. While she took a sip though, her host took several deep swallows before placing the mug down, her eyes lingering on it.

“They all said that I’d taken it from them and thrown it out. The officer believed them and…”

“I’m so sorry,” Judy said, putting her paw on the wolf’s. She tensed up though as she heard the beep of a collar.

“I tried to argue my case, but the officer began reading my rights,” Miriam said distantly. “I argued a bit louder, and those kids kept on shouting slurs at me, and then the officer sprayed me with pepper spray. My collar goes off, I’m on the floor, I felt his hoof on my back and then the cut of a muzzle going on my face…”

The paw slipped from Judy’s grasp, taking the mug with it. Taking a light sip, the wolf looked away from her, instead staring without focus out the window. “They booked me, and without bothering to clean my eyes threw me in an overnight cell… I was let out the next day, though the damage was already done.”

Taking another sip of her tea, Judy looked around the room and froze as she spotted another set of black glasses and a cane leaning against the wall. Gasping, she looked up to the she-wolf, her eyes gazing off into the mid distance.

“Oh sweet cheese and crackers!” she said out loud in horror. “I… I… I can’t say sorry enough for that. It’s… nothing can replace your sight, and…”

“Sight?”

Judy paused, looking up as Miriam looked back at her, training her pupils right on her own, even as the canine’s head tilted sharply to its left. “You… you said the damage was already done?”

“Psychological,” she explained, chuckling slightly. “Why on earth would you think I was blind?”

“The cane, the…”

“Oh, that! That’s for when there’s a full moon,” the wolf said, before pointing up at the blackout blinds that were mounted over the windows. “Same reason I have those. Don’t want to end up having a howl shock.”

“Howl shock…” Judy repeated tensely.

“It’s…”

“I think I know what it is,” the bunny interrupted with a guilty look on her face, holding up the palm of her paw as she did so. “Now… about your son. He was declared missing about a month ago. Can you tell me what happened?”

“That would be me,” Miriam sadly said, her whole face, ears especially, drooping down as she did so. There was a beep from her collar going orange again, which garnered a cursory glance, before she carried on. “We tend to meet up often you see, given that he has trust issues after his fiancé cheated on him and then tried to claim her baby was his. Damn coyotes, wily things they are… Anyway, we’d meet up here and there and then, just after that nasty business at Animalia, he stopped turning up.”

“Any calls or anything?” Judy enquired.

“No…” she whispered. “Nothing, and I told as much to the sheep officers who came around the first time. They said there was nothing they could do.”

“Well, you’ve been failed twice before by the ZPD, but I will not fail you a third time!” Judy said out loud, hopping up and pacing around the room. “I’ve been to his flat and catalogued the evidence there, and couldn’t find any motives as to why he would…”

She paused mid spiel, realising what she’d done too late. There was a soft beep, and a tragic whimper from Miriam, as the wolf stood up. “You think my boy is involved with that terrorist wolf?”

Judy sighed, before stepping forwards. “While I can’t comment too much, I can say that he may well be a victim. Whatever happens, I’ll try to make sure that I bring him back.”

“Please do,” the wolf whimpered. “He’s all I have left.”

“I’ll do my best,” Judy said resolutely. “But I’ll need a helping paw. Calendar dates, receipts, alibi’s, and anything else. Can you help me?”

“Yes,” Miriam replied, nodding slightly. “But promise me that you’ll try to make my pup safe. He’d never do any of that evil stuff. I swear… I swear on my life…”

“And I believe you,” Hopps said firmly, bringing out a notepad and her carrot pen as she did so. “Now, let’s get to work.”

.

An hour later, Judy left the flat. Miriam, a tear in her eye, waved her off, while she waved back in return. Walking along the concrete deck, the bunny contemplated what she’d just learned, as well as the guilt she was now feeling.

Profiling…

Abuse…

Howl shocks…

She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples, reminding herself that she had a job to do and it was what Miriam would want. Something else, however, proved much more adept at waking her from her emotional squalor.

Screams…

Shouts…

The squealing of breaks, and angry motorists using their horns as if it were the end of the world.

Her ears picked up huge amounts of honking and, looking down below, she saw a bus stranded in the middle of the road, a jam of cars on either side. Mammals were getting out and waving or shouting, while other officers were wrapping off the area in black and red warning tape.

Judy gulped.

Black and red meant sharp debris under foot.

Glass, nails, caltrops…

More shouting, and she spotted a pack of antelopes beginning to crowd around a big cat. His arms were up but the entire crowd seemed to be furious with him, grabbing things and throwing them at him. An officer ran over and, sheltering him, ran him over to safety.

Smiling and sighing, her paw patting her badge, Judy carried on, reaching the enclosed lift hall. Pressing the button, she flicked open her phone and checked her ZTA app, frowning deeply as she spotted cancellations on all lines. Subway, tram, rail and even some of the sky trams. Congestion warnings in place for all the main roads, and warnings to avoid all unnecessary journeys that weren’t by foot or bike.

Stepping into the lift, musing over that and the scene outside, she turned around and gasped, spotting the huge letters scrawled over by the stairs.

_‘Your prison is our freedom’_.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

“Yer prison is our freedom,” Caprey cursed, as he checked the news on his phone. His grip tightened on it and, looking over his shoulder at Ramched, he gave him the signal. The sheep left, ready to execute his part of the plan, while the goat started his. His radio up, he contacted one of his underlings with a simple request. “Can yer check on Lenora please. I hear she’s being a bit frisky with her cellie.”

A quick “Affirmative,” came over the line, as the goat reached over to a nearby desk, pocketing a cup of vanilla creamer powder from within. Hiding it away, he smiled as the plan he’d come up with beforehand went into play.

His only complaint was that, given the state the fox had led the city into, it would all be far too kind.

.

.

.

.

“Yup….”

…

“Yup…”

…

“Yup…”

….

Before she could say it again, Lenora was cut off as Nick made a vomiting like sound in his throat. Holding onto him, she kept him suspended, legs dangling mid-air as she thought.

A second passed and she shook her head, and threw him up again.

“Yup…”

Falling down, Nick felt his back being caught by her arms, before she threw him up again.

“Yup…”

.

“Yup…”

.

She was cut off again as a loud, and very real, belch came from the fox’s mouth. Pausing, she gripped him tight and turned him around. “That was very rude, Georgina…” she growled, Nick gulping back. “I think you need your mouth being washed out.”

Picked up and unable to fight back, Nick watched as he was moved over towards the toilet and sink unit. The motion sickness became far more pronounced as he realised it wasn’t the latter that she was intending to use. His collar went orange, and he began to wiggle and fight back, all to no avail.

“Lenora!”

The rhino paused, looking over her shoulder and spotting a pig guard staring in. Nick turned too, and noticed that it was the pig guard who’d processed him when he’d arrived.

“What are you doing to that prisoner?”

“I-uh…”

“Put him down right now,” he ordered, his commands immediately answered as Nick dropped hard onto the floor.

“You okay? Wilde, was it?”

“Yeah,” Nick groaned. He flinched, curling up protectively, as he felt the looming mass of Lenora turn to stare over at him.

“Leave him alone right now, or I’ll be putting you in solitary,” the pig guard warned again. “Now, come with me. I want a little chat with you.”

Like a naughty child being led out to the woodshed, she nervously did as she was told, the pig guard keeping an eye on her and Nick as she did so. “Stay in there and rest up, I’ve heard the warden wants a word with you later. Might be your lucky day.”

Sighing with relief as they left, Nick uncurled himself and stood up tall, before bending over and throwing up a stomach full of bug mash into the toilet.

.

Up in the guard tower, Caprey watched and smiled as the rhino was led away, the fox staying inside. Flicking out a small nail file, he began working away and whistling, watching the white figure of officer Ramched talking to a bunch of fellow rams, briefing them on their part of the plan. Behind the goat another part was starting, and he peeled his ears to listen in. A different figure had just arrived in the control room, the light tan llama guard, Paul, who’d escorted Nick the day before. Through the corner of his eye, Caprey watched as the mammal opened a drawer and looked in, blinking a bit as he tried to find something that wasn’t there. Just as expected, the guard slammed the drawer closed before turning and looking at another guard, a white llama, who was standing nearby.

“Caaaaarllll!”

“I do not understand what your problem is,” the other guard replied nonchalantly.

“You know what it is,” the light tan llama shot back. “You always do something wrong, deny it, then reveal it was you and brush it off.”

“Regardless of whether that happened or not earlier, what are you even accusing me of this time?”

“You know what!” the first llama said, wandering back over to the empty drawer.

“Was there supposed to be something in there?”

“Caaaarl!”

“Let us assume there was something there… What was it?”

“My vanilla coffee creamer Carl!” the first llama complained.

The other one looked surprised somewhat, looking down at it and then back at his accuser. “And you think I did it!”

“You always do it Carl!” The light tan one closed his eyes and held out his arms, stepping forwards into the personal space of the other. “You always take my stuff. You prank me…”

“May I point out that Viagra in a drink is a staple artefact of our culture,” the white llama pointed out, to no avail.

“And you look on as other guards and prisoners beat people up!”

“One of those three things is not like the others. I pay you for those items I take from you with my witty responses and general pleasant aura.”

“Caaaarl…”

“But I did not take your vanilla coffee creamer,” Carl calmly reaffirmed. “I do not like vanilla coffee creamer.”

“You said that about the clover drops...”

“That wasn’t a lie, I don’t like clover drops…”

“You still stole them!”

“As compared to your vanilla coffee creamer, which I didn’t steal.”

“Carl!”

As the two carried on, utterly distracted, Caprey looked on at the screens and saw a trio of well-muscled rams making their way up the stairs and turning off onto one of the terraces, heading in the direction of Nick’s cell. It was a shame, he noted, that he couldn’t let this fox suffer for years on end. But hiding and maintaining that arrangement was a different ballgame to covering up the occasional and deniable abuse, and he was a very sore loser. In any case, he’d be able to use this as a weapon against the head nurse for decades.Looking down, he leant forwards and tipped over a can of opened cherry cola, left from the night shift, and watched as it dripped down into the computer box. The fizzling of the screens as the security cam feed died did nothing to stir the llamas from their ongoing argument, and Caprey happily grabbed some paper towels and got to work cleaning the mess up, happy in the knowledge that once his alibi was mopped up the dirty business would be done.

.

On his top bunk, Nick slowly tucked a sheet of paper into a shirt sleeve. Hiding it careful, he then reached around his back and pulled up his suit’s zipper to the top, opening its back. He took off the top of his boiler suit like uniform and, for the lack of a comb, began preening himself with his tongue. He didn’t mind doing it this way, in fact he actually preferred this method over the use of a (currently non-existent) brush or comb, while the absence of pressing time concerns made the far slower rate of cover a non-issue.

A noise made him stop mid-lick and, looking up, he spotted three angry looking rams staring at him.

“Savage or what, brothers,” one of them growled. “Disgusting mutt.”

“You heard what the boss told us,” one of the others said, “do it quickly.”

“Beat him to death, or drown him?” the third one asked. “The toilet sounds like a good place for filth like him, keeps him quiet too.”

The third one chuckled and stepped forwards, Nick gulping loudly as he did so. “Why not both, brothers. Why not both.”

Nestling defensively into a corner, Nick screamed out as they charged.

.

“Now listen, someone as… slow… and unique as you might struggle to understand this,” the pig guard was slowly explaining to Lenora, who sat on the floor pouting, rocking herself back and forth. “But we can’t keep turning a blind eye and playing nice if you keep on hurting and injuring others, Forest Trunk intelligence regardless. We absolutely cannot. What’s more, if some of the dangerous prisoners actually decide you’re an enemy rather than a novelty or sympathy case, then I don’t know how we can defend you…”

On he went, though something else caught Lenora’s attention. A faint scream, off in the distance. “Georgina?” she whispered, turning to face it.

“And I mean, that’s what I’m talking about,” the pig guard carried on. “His name is Nicholas Wilde, and he’s old enough to be a legal grandparent. The fact that you abuse him as such is quite reprehensible, and I’m almost certain that he’s going to be moved away for his own safety. Now…”

She paid him no mind, stepping up slightly as she began to see mobs of mammals running up to her cell. Peering in, she could see one sheep, quickly joined by another, holding the entrance. In front of them a crowd of predators were quickly forming, pushing and shoving. Other prey were racing up, tearing the predators away, while the sickly red fox she couldn’t stand was screaming out for help, his collar biting him as he did so. “ _They’re trying to drown Nick. They’re trying to kill the Wild Times fox…_ ” she heard him say.

“Dear… What is going on?” the pig guard next to her said, stepping around her form to have a better look. “Oh my! You stay here, I’ll…”

He never got a chance to finish his sentence, cut off as Lenora charged forwards, each step pounding the ground beneath her. Racing faster and faster, she jumped up onto a pair of games tables, smashing them underfoot as she travelled. In front of her, a crowd of prey mammals who’d been running for the stairs stopped and fled.

“Halt there!” cried a sheep officer.

She felt a sharp stab of pain as two barbs punctured her skin, before a burning current ripped through her. Screaming, she fell down and rolled, feeling the pain stop.

“What the…”

Up again, she carried on, not minding the taser wires embedded in her back or the gun unit that trailed behind her, torn from its user’s hoofs. She leapt up the stairs, smashing into a camel who hadn’t got out of her path. The crushing sound and scream as he hit the railings didn’t resister, and she climbed the stairs in bounds of three, quickly up to her terrace. The crowds of predators saw her and fled, while the sheep began backing off into the cell. Both turned, and she could now here the grunts, splashes and muffled cries of pain increase in frequency, along with the sounds of hoof impacts.

She screamed, and entered the cell.

.

Looking on, massaging his brow, Caprey exited onto the same level, albeit opposite side, of the hall and looked on as three sheep prisoners were brutally assaulted. A swift stomp down for each of them, but he grimaced as he heard ribs snap and guttural screams our agony roar out. He looked down at Ramched, glowering at him. Ramched waved open his arms and pointed over to his taser, hanging halfway up the stairs, torn from both his hands and his target’s back. The pig guard was racing over too, panting, and climbed the steps, cursing as he went.

“Where were you guys!” he screamed, and Caprey stared furious daggers back at him in response.

They were all cut off by the sound of a large cough.

Inside the cell, Lenora, crying, put her arms around Nick’s stomach and begin pulling it in in a Heimlich manoeuvre. The fox, his head fur soaking wet and his collar flicking red and shocking him sharply every second or so, coughed up a large mouthful of water. His eyes were closed and, while his limbs twitched with each cracking shock, they did not move. More pulls, increasing in strength and frequency, and more water was coughed out of him.

The pig reached the cell door and looked in, gasping as he made the sign of the cross on his uniform.

His prison suit torn and scuffled, his shorn tail bruised and bedraggled for all to see, Nick looked like a corpse.

Another pull, another cough, and then a splutter. Lenora paused, smiling weakly through her trembles. “Georgina?”

A cough, and a sudden inhale, and Nick began panting in and out. He twisted and shook with a few final shocks, before they ended. Breathing deeply in and out, still hacking more than Damien, he turned and weakly placed his arms around Lenora before collapsing into her, unconscious. The Rhino continued to stroke him and cry, while the pig guard turned and screamed at the sheep and goat on the other side of the jail. “Sir! Call a medic!”

“Do we really…” Caprey began, only to be cut off.

“Sir! What the hell, sir!” the pig shouted, before pulling out his radio. “Hello! Is this the medical wing? Hi… WE HAVE NO TIME FOR JOKES! We got a prisoner who was nearly beaten to death and drowned in a toilet. I…”

There was some chatter from the other end, and the pig’s eyes went wide slightly.

“How did you know who it was?”

…

“You had a feeling, right,” he replied, before looking down at the writhing trio of sheep. “We may also want three ambulances for sheep who were at the receiving end of a rhino stomp. That and some investigators, I see three attempted murder charges coming up.”

Putting his radio down, he looked at the scene around him in shock. In all the cells, prisoners were leaning out and looking at him with a wide range of expressions. More prisoners stood on the ground floor, unable to return to their rooms. His two superiors, meanwhile, just stood still. “Aren’t you going to do something?” he asked, pointing at Caprey. “You’re the head guard, do something!”

The goat grumbled, before looking around. The fox, cradled, injured but still maddeningly alive, in the arms of the rhino, with three willing sheep associates in a far worse state just outside. The prisoners, hanging gormlessly about as they wondered what was going to happen next. The two llama guards up on the top, looking down on everything, the light tan one turning to the white one and speaking something, likely accusing him of orchestrating this.

“All prisoners! Back in ter yer cells! Lockdown!” Caprey ordered, before looking at the pig guard. “I’ll inform ther w _aaaa_ ’rden about ther fight, and Lenora’s heroics right after that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground. For those of you who feel that Nick's suffering is just going to go on without end, and are put off the story by it, remember this. Remember who just didn't win.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Apologies for any errors. While I did have a proofer, I haven't heard from him in a while and I'm pretty sure you'd prefer a flawed chapter over no chapter. If you spot any errors, it would be helpful if you were to point them out in a review (along with your thoughts, naturally).

 

**Chapter 17:**

.

.

Up in the medical wing, Madge looked on wide eyed as Nick was wheeled in. “Nicholas, are you okay!”

Laying down on the cot they’d brought him in on, he turned his head slowly, eyelids fluttering, before coughing slightly. Looking on concerned as a dribble of saliva escaped his through his teeth, she waved at the porter and brought him into a private room.

“It’s safe now,” she said, laying a paw on his chest. “It’s…”

“ _Lenora…_ ” he faintly whined.

“You know, I’m glad it took the warden so long to get on to that,” Madge commented sadly. “She saved your life. I don’t think anyone would have been happy to read that you were killed, let alone from being drowned in a toilet.”

He didn’t respond, instead groaning and whimpering slightly as his legs and tail slowly curled up into his chest. His ruined tail, now swollen in places and badly cut up where it had been stomped, tried to shelter his face but failed miserably.

“That’s right, you rest,” the vet instructed, before turning to a nearby porter. “He’ll still have some water in those lungs, plus plenty of dirt in his cuts. If we book him on for a round of antibiotics, that should prevent any respiratory illnesses taking hold. We don’t want a case of double pneumonia, do we?”

The other mammal, a small kudu, nodded as he wrote it down. “Anything else?”

“Except for some good painkillers, no,” she replied with a wave. “These seem to be surface only, again, though they’ll be some nasty bruising this time. More water to cough out of those lungs as well. I’ll patch him up.”

As if in agreement, a set of hacking coughs broke out of Nick’s muzzle, drizzle and fluids escaping along with them. Topping it off, he let out a large belch, before moaning and rubbing his stomach.

Feeling an unmoving presence behind her, Madge spoke out. “Rather than just look at the evidence, try being proactive…”

The porter blinked, shaking slightly as he got the memo before speaking out. “Need a bucket?”

“Uh-hu,” Madge replied, nodding in agreement as he bent down and grabbed one, sliding it across the floor. Placing it by the side of his bed, the honey badger quickly turned her attention to the cuts and bruises that covered her charge. Bringing out the plaster applier, she delicately covered the raw injuries with the sterilising serum, watching as it set itself into a hard covering. Working along, she frowned as she spotted previous patches, placed on during his last visit.

At the beginning of this week.

“Over one-thousand more of these to go, and you’re already in here twice in your first,” she mused, finishing off with the patching and pulling a compression bandage over his tail to help with the swelling.

“Doc, the pills,” the porter said, handing them over.

“Good,” Madge replied. “He can take them just after this.”

“Just after…?”

His question was cut off as Nick lurched slightly, before leaning over the bed. Madge held up the bucket and looked on as Nick vomited up a gurgling mass of water and bile, the foul liquid sloshing out of his mouth and into the waiting receptacle.

The porter just nodded in understanding, before heading off to complete other duties.

Left alone, something double checked by Madge as she looked over her shoulder, the pair stayed silent for a second.

Nick began to sniff, his collar going orange again as tears began flowing from his eyes.

Madge’s eyes watered too, and she rushed forwards and knelt down, cradling his head in her arms.

The battered and broken fox whimpered and cried into her, as she looked on with an orange collar and a thousand-yard stare.

The harsh beep of a collar going red, and the shrill sound of a shock.

Looking down, Madge saw Nick’s flinch and reacted, gritting her teeth and placing her paw beneath his collar. It flashed red a second time and she cursed from the pain, before grunting loudly as her own shocker went off. Looking over to the pills, she quickly popped out his dose and filled a glass of water.

“Come on Slick, drink this. Drink this, please.”

Slipping the pills into his mouth and the edge of the cup on his lip, she let the water drip into him, only to have it immediately coughed and sprayed back as his limbs kicked out.

“LENORA!” he shouted, as Madge flinched from a shock from his collar.  _“Lenora…”_

He settled down again, as the vet grumbled to herself about how she should have expected that. Withdrawing her paw, she went over and retrieved the pills from the floor, tossing them in a bin. Her ears flicked around as she did so, catching Nick’s musings.

_“Mommy... Mommy…”_

Taking out a new set of pills, she closed her eyes and stayed herself, before tossing them into Nick’s muzzle and clamping it shut with her paws. He began to wiggle and grunt, fighting back, to which Madge responded to by plugging his nostrils with her claws, “Come on Slick. You need to take this medicine, you’re going to feel a lot better from this. I promise. I swear. I…”

She stopped as he swallowed deeply, before withdrawing her paws. Free from her grasp, Nick tossed himself over and curled up, deeply inhaling and exhaling. “Lenora…” he pleaded. “Mommy Lenora… help me!”

Madge’s jaw dropped at the sight, her eyes going wide and collar going orange. “We need to get you a psychiatrist, we need to get your brain mended up after this, don’t we?” she gasped. “We can’t have you getting a complex from this. We can’t have you liking her. Not after how much you hate her. I remember you said something about this before, a tiny bit of gratitude after she saved your life…” Pausing and pinching the bridge of her snout, she turned away and began pacing, breathing in and out deeply as she tried to calm herself down.

It was as she did so that she heard the clanging of the main door opening, and a much hated voice coming in. “She saved him W _aaaa_ r’den. I hear he keeps on saying her name. Debt of gr _aaa_ ’titude fer yer. I told yer they get on great together!”

Her eyes widening, she turned around and looked back at Nick, who was beginning to murmur again.  _“Lenora… Help me Lenora…”_

Rushing over to him, paying no mind to the light shock that flicked at her side, she grabbed his head and spoke right into his ear. “You have to remember how mean she was. Remember how much you hate her. You despise her. You can’t go on any longer living with her. She broke your dick, remember? She…”

Madge cut off as she heard the door opening, standing to attention as Byron Caprey and the warden entered.

“G’day,” the warden said briefly, waving to Madge as he stepped past. Looking down at Nick, he was silent, staring at him intently with no movement bar the odd flick of his ear.

The fox groaned slightly before curling up. Eyes still closed, he seemed unaware of his visitors, even as they crowded around him.

“Mist’ _eeeee_ rrrr Wilde,” Caprey began to say, devolving into a full on bleat as he moved in front of the two other mammals. Ignoring the angry glare that Madge sent him as she was shouldered to the side, he leant down and spoke smoothly. “Yer a lucky fox. I ‘ear that Lenora saved you. Isn’t tha’ right?”

The broken fox below him merely let out a pleading set of whimpers, the tip of his muzzle twitching upwards a couple of times. Byron smiled and turned to the others. “I think tha’s him wanting Len…”

He was cut off as Nick let out a massive sneeze, the sheer volume of the action making all three in attendance jolt and briefly turning Madge’s collar orange. They settled down, and she returned to a green light just as the second sneeze erupted, Nick’s own collar briefly raising to its warning level before settling down again.

Clearing his throat, Byron walked forwards to speak, only to be held back by a small, two-thumbed paw on his chest. The warden still looked at Nick as he spoke, though it wasn’t the fox he was speaking to.

“Now is not the time,” he began slowly, as if he were trying to carefully find the right footing for each word, his speech slow and disjointed as a result.

“I…” Byron tried to interject, only to be cut off again.

“You failed him. By proxy, I failed him… But I trusted in you to keep peace and order my friend.”

“It won’t happen again,” Byron said out loud, his voice fading into a quiet silence.

“I hope not, but I need proof,” the warden said solemnly. “I’ll need to be able to trust you again. Trust you to do the job I know you can do. Trust you to keep him safe, like you’ve kept all the other prisoners safe, up until this week…”

“I…”

“One good week,” the warden said. He finally turned to face the head guard, and his eyes were red and pained. “One good week in which I hear nothing. In which you run a model institution. I’ll check your reports at the end, and I want to know why this happened, and why it’ll never happen again.” Smiling slightly, he patted the goat’s arm and nodded. “Do me good, Byron. Now go out there and win back my trust.”

The goat’s jaw chewed around for a bit, a bit of his lower lip being nipped at by a tooth, before he relaxed. “I’ll make you proud, Sir,” Caprey replied, pulling up his arm into a salute. He stayed for a bit longer though, an odd silence filling the room. His eyes met the wardens, and the goat smiled awkwardly, as he stayed in place…

.

Madge coughed, and he didn’t get the message, standing there obliviously.

.

He hopped on his toes a few times, biding the time.

.

The second hand on the wall clock ticked on and on.

.

Finally, the warden frowned slightly and spoke. “I said you could go. I want to speak alone with the head nurse. Can you please leave?”

Caprey was still for a bit, before taking a deep breath in and out. He turned and began marching out, leaving the slightly bemused koala in his wake.

“If I may…” Madge began to whisper, once he was gone.

“He knows it’s Nigel,” he commented, before looking up. “Do go on.”

“If I may, I do not believe Nicholas Wilde will be safe at all in any wing, ever, unless it is completely composed of predators,” she said. “We both know how political his crimes were, and how divisive a character he is, and I think the only way to ensure he survives his imprisonment is if we make sure no-one who might want to harm him is in a position to harm him!”

The warden nodded slowly, before turning to Nick. “I understand where you’re coming from, you want me to put him in isolation. The solitary cells… But I can’t do that. It’s…”

Madge’s collar went up to orange and she stepped forward, cutting him off. “-Why not!?” she almost shouted, her open paws out in front of her. “Or is this for the same reason that you failed to ask him about how he felt being stuck in the same cell as the rhino that tried to fix him with a pair of bricks and half succeeded!”

Coming to a stop, she panted, her paw raised up and patting over her orange collar, waiting for the potential shock. It never came, though the expression on her face didn’t portray that. Instead, her eyes remained wide and trembling, terrified that her speech had just betrayed her, as she looked on at the mammal in front of her.

“I… half fix him you say?” he said, turning back to look at Nick’s now sleeping figure.

“Yeah,” Madge grumbled. “He has a titanium baculum now, thanks to her… She keeps him as a pet, forcing him to not speak and walk along on all fours… Calls him Georgina. She turned him into the prison vixen, and that’s why I wanted you to move him in with Damien!”

“But… Byron…” the warden mumbled, before frowning. “If this was true then Byron would have told me. I can understand a difference in opinion, but these accusations go against everything I know and…”

“Caprey is a liar!” Madge snapped, flinching down from a light shock. She carried on afterwards regardless. “He’s a deceiver. A monster. A very nasty pred hater, and one who knows to keep on your good side so he can be as bad as he is.”

The accusation hit the warden like a freight train and he flinched back. “Madge,” he began nervously, a paw coming up to adjust his glasses. “Where on earth is this coming from? If this is true, why didn’t you…?”

“Say it before?” Madge asked, before sighing, a pair of claws coming up to pinch the bridge of her muzzle. “Because you’d act like this… You wouldn’t believe… And for so long he did things so minor and so well hidden, there was no big piece of proof…” she spat out, before she slowed down, her voice beginning to drip with regret. “And he said he’d get to me if I tried anything, so I stayed quiet. I… I felt it was safer to be there to pick up the pieces he sent my way once a month or so. Though Nick here seems to get a month’s punishment from him every few days… I tried to tell you this before, but Caprey barged in and… Well, you know how that went.”

“Byron is my friend…” the warden mumbled. “This sounds like a different mammal…”

Madge sighed, and moved forwards to speak, only to be cut off with a paw. The warden looked sadly up at her and spoke.

“The way I see it, one of two people I trust is lying. Is deceiving me. It could be you, it could be him…”

“And Nicholas Wilde will tell you the truth,” Madge said, waving her paw at him.

“The truth about a lot of things,” he said, scratching his chin. “Doesn’t change what I said though, does it?”

The honey badger thought for a bit, before sighing. “I suppose it doesn’t. I am sorry for your loss, it must be painful.” She said in agreement.

“It is, whichever way it turns out” he replied, his voice stoic and emotionless, before he turned, beginning to step out and away. Walking over, Madge opened the door for him as he left, and watched him walk off. Two nurses were waiting outside, and Madge gave them a simple order. “Wheel him to a recovery room.”

They followed it, and off they went, quickly finding an observation cell to let Nick rest in.

.

.

.

The two nurses had gone off, their other duties calling, and Madge watched Nick silently. Time passed, and finally his eyes began to flutter open slowly, his head turning to face her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I failed you. I…”

“No,” he weakly whispered. “I heard it all… I…”

“Nick…”

“It’s Slick, Patches,” he said with a chuckle. Madge stepped back a bit, before sighing and relaxing, her tense ears dropping down he head slightly. Smiling, she let one her paws gently go forwards, and watched as Nick slowly reached out and grasped it.

His grip was weak, yet somehow very strong.

“How you feeling?” she asked.

“Not as suicidal as last time, I can thank you and your cub for that….” He weakly joked. “But still pretty awful…”

“Hang in there,” Madge replied softly. “The only reason they’re doing this is because they’re scared. You’re telling the preds in the city that they don’t have to take this crap. I hear that all the transit has shut down, all thanks to you. Think about that Nick, the great city brought to a grinding halt, all down to your words.”

“I’ll thank them when I’m feeling better,” he said, his voice tired and little more than a whisper. His eyes were drooping down, sleep trying to take him, and Madge slowly let go of his paw, pulling up his covers to tuck him in. She felt he deserved a good rest, and good dreams to go with them.

“I got a call from Honey and the others,” she said warmly. “It took a thick plank of wood along with a sheet of metal under the shocker unit for whenever the anti-tamper sensor got angry, some sharp scissors and a bit of persistence… But they’re uncollared now, living the high life in the Reptoslav embassy.”

Nick gave a chuckle, and quietly joked out. “One century they’re trying to take over Mammalia and sending everyone in Western Outback to death camps… Now they’re the good guys! Gives some hope for us preds, doesn’t it…”

“It does,” Madge said back. “…And hearing Honey without a collar on…” The honey badger sniffed slightly, her collar flickering orange as she wiped a tear from under her eye. “Again, I owe you so, so much. If there’s anything more I can do for you…”

“Take these,” he groaned, pulling out some pieces of paper from under his jumpsuit sleeve. Looking at them, wide eyed, Madge began pulling them out, only to flinch as she heard the sound of a camera shutter. She turned around and spotted Caprey through the cell window, turning and walking away, placing his phone into his pocket.

“Shit!” she cursed, before flinching as a shock struck her. She brought her paws up and pinched the bridge of her muzzle tightly between two claws. “Shit… shit… shit…”

“What?” Nick managed to ask.

“He’s going to use that against me,” she growled. “I’m afraid Slick, I’ll have to show it to the warden. Officially, I saw it peeking out there and pulled, curious as to what it was. I’m going to call ahead, say I found it, and try to make sure he can’t spin this against me. I hope you understand, but…”

“It’s called a hustle sweetheart, I understand,” he replied, managing to smile. “Now… do your thing. Nearly dying in a toilet makes you tired…”

Pausing as she looked down at him, Madge nodded before leaving the cell, the door locking behind her.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 18**

.

.

Putting down his phone, Warden Erius tweaked the items at his desk before calling out. “Come in.”

“Nigel,” Byron Caprey said, smiling as he entered. The warden watched him come in and settle down, the warm smile on the goat’s muzzle fading as he looked the koala in the eye.

“Byron.”

“I’m sorry w _aaa_ ’rden,” the head guard said with a pronounced bleet. “I’m sorry I have ter break this ter yer. But I have evidence that Madge Badger is workin’ with ther Wild Times fox.”

“What do you mean by working?”

Scratching behind his ear, the goat pulled out his phone and brought up a picture, showing the head vet pulling out a letter from beneath the arm cuff of Nick’s uniform. The warden’s eyes widened slightly at the sight, before he passed the phone back. “Could you explain it for me?”

“Well, yer read ther letter ther fox put out, haven’t you? Ther one that called fer ther predators ter go about, causing chaos? Now, back in Zootopia, ther transit system is down. Subway and bus, all stopped! Ther city is in chaos, an’ ther fox’s letter is ther cause!”

“I’ll… I’ll have to read it then,” the warden said solemnly. “But what do you think this has to do with Madge?”

Caprey leant in and whispered darkly. “How do yer think ther letters got out?”

“Visitors?” the warden asked.

“He’s had none!” the goat said, his eyes wide. “An’ I hear tha’ when he first got injured, she spent an awful long time with him in ther office! I think she smuggled ther letters out, knowing ther damage they’d do! He’s making ther chompers in ther city do crazy stuff, an’ he’s got Madge workin’ fer him too!”

“So, in that letter, you think that he’s got new orders? The next step.”

“Yeh,” Caprey shrugged. “An’ who knows what it could be… M _uuuuu_ ’rder even!”

The warden nodded in agreement, before speaking slowly. “We’d better check then.”

“I know,” Caprey agreed. “Though I can’t believe Madge is doing this. It’s such a great shock. Terrible… I trusted ‘er, and…”

“We all did,” the koala said sadly, before leaning down and grabbing a pitcher of water. He poured a cup for himself and one for his visitor, who quickly took it and began drinking. Mid gulp though, the studiously observing koala spoke out. “I need to know that I can trust those under me. I need to know I’m not being deceived, they’re not doing secret beatings, or putting prisoners in with cellmates who previously sent them to the hospital with a broken dick or such…”

…

Byron, under the studious gaze of the warden, finished his drink normally, without so much as a cough or splutter, and let it rest down. “Certainly not.”

The warden squinted curiously somewhat, processing the absence of any reaction, and let a paw come up to his chin and tap there as he thought. He gave a quick shrug, before carrying on speaking. “Trust,” he began, standing up as he did so, “is something we seem to have so much less of these days. I can’t tell you how disheartening that fact is.” Looking up, he called out, over the guard’s head. “Are you there?”

“Yes,” came the reply from the other side of the office door, Caprey’s eyes widening with shock as he heard the voice.

“Then come in Madge.”

The door opened, and the honey badger walked in, handing over a crumpled letter to the warden. “Is anything the matter,” she asked, noticing the odd mood.

“No,” the warden replied, as he put a pair of glasses on his face and began reading. “Just Caprey here came to me, worried that you were smuggling out contraband letters for Nicholas.”

Her eyes slowly widening, Madge turned her head down to Caprey and shook it slowly. “I’m a bit shocked, Byron. That accusation hurts you know, I don’t know where you got it from. I was just getting him settled in and noticed it sticking out of his sleeve pocket.”

“Indeed,” the warden agreed, placing the letter down. “She called me before visiting just to tell me. It’s not as if what’s in this letter is bad or anything. Seems tame by me, and I’ll place it into the out pile myself, though I’ll have to look up the address for the Reptoslav embassy. Something I’d never thought I’d do, I tell you.”

“All just a silly misunderstanding,” Madge chimed in. “We don’t need to hold this though. Live and let live. Isn’t that right, Byron?”

The goat was still, bar a slight twinge in the corner of his eye, and he looked up and nodded. “My apologies Madge,” he said, sounding completely sincere.

“Accepted,” Madge chimed, smiling as she turned back to the warden. “Now, Nick Wilde is resting, but I think that in a few hours he’ll be happy to have visitors. We can settle this Lenora issue once and for all, and maybe even see if he wants to add some stuff to his letter. Might want to redraft it, given recent events.”

“Indeed,” the warden replied, “see you both there at five-hundred hours.”

“I’m looking forwards to it, though for now duty calls,” Madge chirped, standing up and walking out.

Caprey stood up slowly behind her, the wood of his chair creaking and cracking as he gripped it, before he too made an exit, doing so in quite a hurry.

Alone, the warden closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, pondering the actions and reactions of both of them.

He then carefully removed his glasses and placed them to one side, before giving a muffled scream and then repeatedly banging his head on his desk.

.

Back in the control room for the wing, Caprey grabbed a chair and smashed it into the floor screaming. Panting in and out fast, he grabbed his horns and pulled, eyes shut as he tried to think. He rocked back and forth in his chair, before the clicking of a door woke him from his thoughts. A sheep guard, Ramched, entered and spoke.

“How bad?”

“He’s onto me! He’s suspectin’ and testing me! Though he doesn’t have me yet…”

The sheep guard paused, before smiling. “They still don’t suspect me, do they?”

“No,” Caprey replied, lifting his head and smiling back. “They don’t.”

.

.

.

.

A few hours later, the door to the medical wing opened and the sheep entered. Trotting in, sidestepping some nurses or doctors travelling in the other direction, he paid little mind to the prisoners lying in their cots, whether they be free to move or handcuffed in place. Instead, he turned sharply into the staff area and, placing an ear against a door, checked that the office behind it was empty.

Turning the knob, he stepped in, his eyes gazing over and laying on a set of items stacked up on a desk. He picked one out, making a few quick modifications, before exiting.

Keeping his catch concealed beneath his clothing, he travelled back through the medical wing. Past the prisoners in their cots. Past a set of secure doors and windows, which he paused at to peek instead, staring daggers at the two mammals inside. Onwards a bit, to the locked gate which would lead outside.

He smiled as he saw a goat and koala arrive.

“Ah, I was told you’d be here,” he said, flicking up his arm into a quick salute.

Caprey nodded, but the warden piqued his mouth slightly and stepped forward. “G’day, I think you’re a newer transfer here. Over from the rodent jails, is that right?”

“Yes, that is. Louie Ramched,” the sheep introduced himself, before noticing Caprey walking forwards.

“Tha’s right. Buuuut I thought yer’d already introduced yer’self to the war’den and all.”

The sheep looked on curiously at the head guard but, spotting his wink, quickly turned back to the koala. “Yes, I remember it. This isn’t the first time we’ve met.”

The koala’s eyes went wide slightly, his paw coming up to his forehead. “Are you certain?” he asked, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Absolutely,” Ramched said, a thin smile growing across his face as he nodded vigorously. “It wasn’t even that long ago.”

“I remember him talkin’ ‘bout meeting you when I first met ‘im,” Caprey added.

The warden gulped slightly, quiet for a second, before, with a blink, he stepped forward. “Right then,” he began, his voice a horse whisper. “I’m afraid I’ll have to get reacquainted with you at another time. I’ve had an important meeting that I’ve delayed for long enough.”

“It’s Caprey I needed to talk to,” Ramched said, looking up. Moving to the side of the warden, he pulled out a notepad from under his clothes and handed it to the goat. “I found this in Wilde’s cell. I thought I’d seen it before, and a quick check proved my suspicions right.”

The warden looked at the book and waved for it to be brought over. The two ungulates handed it over and watched as he flicked through it, noting the torn pages. A quick check on the blank front and he looked back to them. “Where did you see it?”

“They have a stack of it in the medical office,” Ramched said gravely.

“Tha’ fox got it from _‘ere_ ,” Caprey added, his last word devolving into a full-on bleat. “All ther chaos in ther’ city, came from _‘ere_.”

“Well, it makes sense that he took the paper from in here,” the warden said, agreeing.

“Under ter nose of ther’ head vet,” the goat pointed out, as he walked forwards and gently placed his hoof on the small marsupial’s shoulder, letting it rest and settle there. “Or given ter him by her…”

“Well,” the warden said solemnly, taking the notepad. “One way to find out.”

He turned and walked on, the goat and sheep following him, not bothering to knock as they entered Nick’s room. The fox was still laying in his bed, his eyelids half lidded, while Madge sat by his side. She stood up as she heard them enter, before the warden threw the book at her. Her eyes went wide and, as she caught it, her collar went orange, the harsh beep echoing around the room.

.

…

“Warden Eri…. -Nigel, it’s a surprise to see you here,” Madge said, finding her voice. She looked down at the book and gave a shrug. “Is throwing notepads at people a new thing. You gave me a little bit of a surprise there, gave me an orange light too. I…”

“Yer’ve seen tha’ pad before!” Caprey accused, brushing the others aside and sharply prodding the honey badger in the chest. She jolted backwards and stayed quiet as the goat continued his tirade. “Yer smuggled out ‘is letters, ‘an yerrrr gave him the way to cause chaos in ter city! What do yer have to say for yerself?”

Madge closed her eyes and breathed in and out. “I don’t know how Nick received that paper, I…”

“Why don’t we ask him?” Ramched suggested, turning to the fox in question. The vulpine, his eyes slowly opening, looked around before shrugging.

“I picked it up when she wasn’t looking,” Nick said. “I first thought that I could play some noughts and crosses, but…”

“How can we be sure that you’re not lying,” the sheep butted in, before the goat in the room chimed in too.

“How can we be sure she isn’t lying?” he said, pointing over at Madge. She sighed, before responding.

“I…”

“And wh _aaa_ ’ was with ther orange light?”

“I was surprised by the paper…”

“’Cause yer gave it ter Wilde and didn’t plan on seein’ it back!”

“He just explained…”

“He’s coverin’ fer yer!”

“Listen, I…”

“How do I know yer not lying?” Caprey interrupted once again, not noticing the darkening expression on the warden’s face.

“ENOUGH!!!!” the koala finally yelled.

Caprey was silenced, and all eyes in the room turned to the warden, a huge frown on his face. “You’re all arguing like a bunch of bloody children! What is happening to my prison? Now, the way I see it Caprey, you might have something valid going on there with your accusation. But it’s unfounded, and just like you’ve been a good member of my crew, so has Madge.”

“Thank you,” the honey badger replied, only to be cut off.

“Please don’t bother me, I’m having a bad day as it is,” Erius lashed out. “Now, the way I see it, the whole point of this was to see whether our prisoner here still wants to bunk with Lenora or go with this Damien fella. Which would it be?”

Nick blinked a few times, before speaking out. “Damien. Please!”

“Right then,” the warden huffed. “If Caprey can give me one week with no incidents, we’ll say all’s forgiven and slip you back into general.”

“He still could be at risk,” Madge warned, speaking on even as Nigel scrunched up his eyes. “Isolation is the…”

“A very cruel punishment if used over an extended time, and one that I do not intend you use on a victim,” the koala said out loud, before turning to Nick. “Unless of course he wants it for his safety. I suppose he could bring in any books he’s reading currently, though I don’t think that’ll do much to compensate the complete lack of mammal contact. It’s your choice boy.”

There was a pause as Nick thought, weighing his options. He still felt terrible from his ordeal earlier and could feel the subdued hate coming off of Caprey and Ramched. He could be safe from them, from the others, but….

A look over to Madge, who’d been there for him. Who’d helped him get his letter out, along with Damien…

He remembered the little cub who’d dressed up as him for hero’s day, and the letters he’d be wanting to read.

“Couldn’t I just stay in here?” Nick asked politely, gesturing around at the room he was in. “This place is nice.”

“And a hospital,” the warden pointed out. “We’ve got limited space and the prison inspectors would be onto us if we kept you in here for too long, which is a shame as it’s a decent idea.”

Nick closed his eyes and sighed, speaking out. “General it is then.”

 “Good,” the warden noted, before turning back to Madge. “And you don’t need to be so worried, the way I see it, that cell block is probably the safest one for him.”

“What!?” Nick exclaimed, his collar going orange. “I… I nearly got killed, twice!”

“Yes, and I can only offer my sincerest apologies and the promise that it won’t happen again,” Nigel replied. “In any case, think of it this way. Those that wished to kill you in that wing are heavily injured, currently in long term care, and will not be returning. I presume you don’t want to go through that filtering process again, do you?”

“I…” the fox began, before sighing. “Okay, I’ll admit that’s a clever way of thinking about it.”

“Splendid,” the warden sighed with relief. “In any case, you’ll still have that rhino to help you out in any scuffles.”

He turned and left the room, Ramched following. Caprey, behind them both, turned as he left and spoke. “From before breakfast ‘till after dinner. Yer can still hang out with yer saviour.” A sickening grin flashed across his muzzle, and he left the room, leaving Nick and Madge alone.

…

 The honey badger turned to the fox and let out a sigh of relief.

…

“That was close,” she said. “I had a fright when I saw that they’d found the notepad. Just one misstep, and… Well, me being on the warden’s good side is the one thing we have going for us.”

“You know, Patches?” Nick began. “It was interesting that they found it at all.”

“Why.”

“It’s really hidden under Damien’s bed.”

Madge blinked a few times, before turning away and growling. She paused suddenly, interrupted by the sound of her collar going orange. “When we get them. When we make him see how much they betrayed his trust… When I see….”

She trailed off, her fists clenching at her sides, before a cough from Nick brought her back to reality. “We can all dream,” he said. “But be careful with that, they can have unintended consequences. Exhibit A, Moi!” he raised his paws out and pointed down at himself, giving a sly wink as he did so.

Relaxing slightly, Madge walked forwards and smiled. “Well, let’s rest for now and savour this victory. We’ve got a long road up ahead.”

“Correction, I have,” Nick pointed out.

“Indeed,” the vet noted. “First order of business, how to get you further away from that rhino. Permanently, if possible.”

Nick bit his lower lip, looking up at her and gulping. “Is that really a good idea?”

Madge looked down at him, blinking a few times, before shaking her head. “There are preds in that cell block. They’ll all know who you are and would protect you, if it wasn’t for her that was. You’ll be as safe as you were before.”

“So,” he grunted, “bi-weekly attempts on my life?”

“Nick,” Madge groaned. “Can we please just focus on what we’ve achieved so far. We have a week. A week in which to think. To plan. To prepare. So, as your vet, I’m prescribing you twenty-four hours of gloating at your victory. Understand?”

“Make me,” Nick teased.

“One picture of officer Texel, post moth incident.”

…

“Sly honey badger,” Nick said, smirking.

Nodding, Madge stepped away, opening the door and turning back to check on him one more time. “I’d say ‘sly Madge’, ‘sly Patches’ or even ‘sly ratel’ have a better ring. But thanks very much for the compliment.”

And at that, she closed the door and left him.

Bits of his body still ached, his neck stung if he moved it in the wrong way and his breath still felt a bit off. But Nick let himself settled down into his bed, savouring the victory, even if so much of the war was left to fight.

.

.

* * *

.

.

 TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

I distinctly remember the date that the second letter was made public.

How could I not?

By that time, Nick’s calls for civil disobedience had taken the city by storm. Ten-percent of the population may feel outnumbered, but if just ten percent of those unite to cause mischief…

Well, a dreadful amount of mischief can be caused.

From what I gather, a pred working at the ZTN’s central signal house (either at the top, pulling the levers, or as a janitor) created a key copy, and let it slip onto a set of more ambitious preds. They entered with a sledgehammer entourage along with some nice big jugs of acid. Slipping in, they forced all signals to be turned to red before setting to work. Three minutes later they were gone, the police were called and the city’s entire heavy rail system was shut down. Cement and angle-grinders did much the same for the trams. Big saws for the sky trams. Caltrops for the busses and roads. Pred owned shops bussed in tanks full of wax, margarine and coconut oil, melted it all, and then poured it all into drains in the rainforest to seal them up, causing floods.

And as more happened, more preds were invigored to step out and do that part.

Nick Wilde had unleashed a beast.

I was still doing my part, and I know that you know that I don’t want to talk about it. We both know why.

In any case, the contents of the actual letter came out as quite anticlimactic. I’m guessing it was written and released right as the protests truly began, so he had no chance to view their progress and comment. To us though, the timing seemed to suggest that it was such a response. We were expecting a call to arms or a great thumbs up, not a musing on the mammal who’d framed him.

Looking back now though, there is nothing objectively wrong about this letter. He muses that ‘Lupus Savage’ was a walking contradiction, in terms of both his actions and his allies. He regretfully informs that, though mainly out of a presumed outclassing rather than malice or incompetence, he has little faith in the ZPD being able to apprehend those who destroyed his life. Well, little faith in the majority of them…

He was strangely prophetic though in his orders.

Keep fighting for right. Stay on your guard. Prepare for him to retaliate.

Yours sincerely,

Mel.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Judy Hopps stood patiently outside the chief’s door. Notepads, binders of pictures and even the reports from the mortician were all held between her thighs.

Her paws were up in her ears, plugging them against the screams of the chief, which roared out from inside the office. His silhouette paced back and forth, holding a phone while gesturing wildly with his other hand. On a few occasions there would be a brief respite, the phone lowering and his fingers tapping onto it, before the yelling continued.

On and on and on…

Judy tapped her foot against the ground, nervously looking around. The ZPD lobby was crisscrossed back and forth by tired officers, worn out after working double shifts. Many of them, coming in, hauled predators, cuffed together and even muzzled but all with huge smiles on their faces. Big cats, small cats, canines, vulpines, mustelids…

Watching on, Judy wondered whether she should get a mammal spotting book, and how quickly she could fill out the pred section.

Other preds were coming out, ignoring the jeers of the other officers. They saluted and waved at the newcomers, telling them that the cells were packed and that they would likely be out in a day or to.

Judy had been shocked to see it on her return to the precinct, but they were right. Absolutely and without a doubt so. Record searches were backlogged by a day and booking, despite taking on assembly line values, couldn’t cope. If they couldn’t book the preds and lay a charge on them, they had to let them go.

The ZPD was losing.

…

Blinking out of her train of thought, the bunny officer noticed a shadow hovering over her and looked up, spotting the looming visage of the chief. His eyes were bloodshot red, his uniform crumpled and dirty, and his chin prickly with stubble. He silently waved her in, and she followed.

“I hear the wool test results are back,” he said slowly.

“They are,” Judy replied, “and they confirm my suspicions.”

Bogo snorted, his nostrils flaring, before reaching down for his vape pen and drawing in a deep breath. Judy dared not interrupt him and looked away, though her presence did still catch his eye. He stood up and opened a nearby window, before breathing the cloud of vapour out and into the wind. “So,” he said, with a hint of finality. “We still have a criminal sheep on the loose, plus a murdered one in our morgue. That’s on top of our murderous wolf.”

“It’s worse than that,” Judy said solemnly.

“Given the state of this precinct, and for that matter this city, I won’t tempt fate. Just go on.”

Bringing out the folder and some pictures, she pointed to one taken in Tracker’s apartment. The staircase, and a hole that had been smashed into one of the steps. “That hole seems far too small for a wolf’s foot to create. It’s too small, round… and a wolf’s foot paw is large and soft, you’d need something hard to do that kind of damage. There was some fluff in said hole, which I sent for testing. Some of it, a small minority, came from Tracker. The rest of it was wool.”

“Bell Conagher?” the chief asked, Judy nodding in response.

“A perfect DNA match to one of the sources from the apartment. Moreover, the wool is caught at the front of the step. Visualising this, I believe it was made as our devious sheep walked down to steps, dragging Rufus Tracker behind him.”

Bogo pulled a hoof up, and Judy silenced herself as he spoke. “Let me guess, you’re about to say that Mr Tracker isn’t our wolf. He was taken and is a victim. Is that correct?”

His question seemed neutral, but as Judy nodded he let his brow furrow slightly at yet another complication.

“There’s more than that, though,” she said, pulling forward a set of notes. “On a talk with his mother, it appears that he has several alibi’s. While her assurance that they watch animalia on tv together could be challenged in a court of law, the fact that they were both watching a film together at the same time as an earlier savage attack, and the tickets still exist, seems conclusive. They have the receipts and all. Finally, they were at Wild Times, together, during a second attack, something confirmed by our good friend Nick’s booking register.”

“And what if there’s more than one shooter?” Bogo asked quietly.

“That’s something we don’t know,” Judy said, waving her paws a bit. “But, our mortician was thorough and came up with a final nail in the coffin. Some of Rufus’ blood was on the sheep. Hard to isolate a sample, but we got one. And it was contaminated with the savage serum.”

The buffalo blinked a bit, before stepping up and opening a window, resuming his vaping. “So, we now have to not only tell the predators out there, who are currently sinking this city out of spite as we speak, that we have failed to capture those who framed their messiah and killed their idol. We also have to let them know that one of them was kidnapped and drugged, and there’s nothing we can do.”

“I wouldn’t say nothing…” Judy began, before she paused as she saw a defiant palm being held up to her.

“You’ve seen the state the precinct is in,” Bogo said slowly. “You can see what’s going on to our city out there, Hopps. I’ve seen riots before, and this is well past the flash point now. I may not be fond of predators, but I’m even less fond of blood. And it is going to get spilt, Hopps. On both sides. Soon… And we’re unable to cope now.”

“I understand, sir,” Judy said, before sighing.

“Getting this guy would do a lot for peace, but he knows this, I’m sure of it,” Bogo continued. “That’s why he pulled two innocent mammals out of their homes and drugged one so that he’d kill the other. Wind up the tension further, all while making us waste a week or so on a goose chase…”

“He can’t run forever,” Judy said, resolutely.

“He doesn’t have to,” Bogo countered. “I’m guessing he just wants things to turn violent, as we all know that it’ll be the preds that lose the most then. And that damn fox isn’t helping!”

…

Judy shrugged, before speaking. “As you know, I met Wilde in the zoo, just to do some quick facial recognition. Again, more proof that Tracker isn’t Lupus. But, despite the inconvenience, I almost feel myself rooting for him.”

“Tchhhh,” Bogo chided, before snorting and taking in another deep breath of vape. “If he can do that to you, no wonder he’s got all the damn preds in the city dancing to his piper’s tune. But his orders are going to end up starting a species war.”

“Sir, if I may!” Judy said out loud. “Wilde is committed to non-violence, and…”

“I didn’t say the preds will strike first, Hopps,” the chief interrupted. “But he’s like a boy egging on the annoying sissy pica kit to tease the classes bully bull about his father’s death. He’s the one who pushed the first domino, and if he has any sense he should stop.”

“He thinks this fight is one in which he’s in the right, and he has a duty to lend a paw, sir,” Judy said. “I don’t think we can convince him to stop. It’s not like Lupus would stop, would he?”

“No,” Bogo sighed, as Judy’s ears stood up alert, her eyes suddenly wide open and trembling. She stepped down and walked, like a mammal towards their grave, over to the window as the chief carried on regardless. “Indeed, from what I gather cases of savage reversions are increasing. His initial plan has failed, and instead he’s trying to set the world on fire. Who knows what his next strategy is going to be…”

He trailed off as Judy jumped up onto the windowsill, her ears upright and her body flinching every so often. The was a tense gasp, and she covered her eyes. “You can’t hear, can you!?” she said, wailing slightly.

“Hear what?” Bogo asked, as his intercom beeped. Looking over up at it, Judy took a deep breath in and steeled herself.

“I’m too late to save some of those innocents,” she said, “but I can stoop more blood being slain. Permission to suit up and engage.”

“What did you hear?” Bogo asked again, as his intercom beeped once more. His arm shot out and he pulled it up to his ear, his angry visage dissolving into one of horror as he heard the news.

“Screams,” Judy said, before gulping slightly. “Screams and gunshots.”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

On second thoughts, I will talk about that day. You mentioned your nightmares, so I will mine.

.

We didn’t set out to cause chaos. We didn’t set out to break down infrastructure or to inconvenience. We were handing out food, both for pred and prey, in one of the poorest neighbourhoods in the city. Many of the latter turned their noses up and spat at us, many others were thankful, joking that they never used the trains anyway.

I know that I’m thankful to still have my life, even though it was luck that it was a different group he targeted, not ours.

But I don’t know whether to be thankful or not that it wasn’t nighthowler.

Then again, they could only make a few a day, and the savages could be restrained.

Compare that to the thousands of bullets, and the hundreds that found their target…

.

Mel.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I'd just like to tell my readers that I've started a new story. 'Familiar Fire: The Embers of the Past' is a sequel for Kittah4/ VariableMammal's story, Familiar Fire, which I'm writing (with permission) alongside his own, cannon, sequel, 'The Appointed Time'. I strongly advise checking all three out.

**Chapter 19:**

.

Shifting and turning, mumbling in his sleep, Nick was woken by the sharp knock at the door. His ears perking up, he lifted his head and groggily opened his eyes, looking on at Madge who stood outside the cell, observing him through the window. He nodded slowly and she moved. There was a rattle as the door was unlocked, and she quickly moved in and locked it behind her.

"Morning," Nick groaned, as he slowly shuffled back so that he was sitting up in bed.

"Morning," she replied quickly, as if she were trying to avoid the subject. She carried with her a few bags and boxes of material, which she placed down on the desk, an unpleasant look growing on her face as she did so. Turning forwards, she took a few exploratory sniffs, the grimace on her muzzle growing with each one.

Her eyes rested accusingly on Nick.

The fox shrugged, before pointing towards the cell's toilet. "By the time I was going to bed, I started feeling a bit off… First time I needed to barf, I didn't quite make it."

"And you were just too lazy to clean it up?" Madge sassed, raising an eyebrow. "So tired you thought you'd just leave it until the next day? Let it stink up the place, and let someone else deal with it rather than clean it up? Make it so that those who manage this place have to deal with your disgusting bodily fluids…?

.

"…Yeh," Nick replied innocently, shrugging as he did so. "Pretty much so."

The honey badger turned and stepped over to the stain on the floor, examining it a bit before grabbing some toilet roll and mopping it up. "I suppose it really wasn't that smelly, but I'm still a bit disappointed that you couldn't spend ten seconds doing a bit of a mop up however bad last night's fever was."

"Funny thing about that, Patches," Nick said with a chuckle. "No fever… I just had to puke."

Flushing the paper, Madge turned back and rolled her eyes, letting them rest judgementally on the resting fox. "Interesting, though not surprising… it's…"

"-A by-product of a sudden adrenaline spike," Nick interrupted. "Fight and flight and all," he carried on, before sighing and almost seeming to deflate. "Just my near-death experience catching up with me…"

His voice trailing off, an uncomfortable silence filled the room for a moment, before being broken by Madge. "Yeah," she agreed. "Just what I was going to say. I'm surprise you knew that."

Looking up at her, Nick shook his head. "I used to be a vet, Madge. You helped tutor me for the exam, remember?"

"And the fact Mhikala and I bought a jungle themed swing set for Asani means we're the runners of Wild Times two," she replied sarcastically, before her face took on a more sombre mood. "I have some things to cheer you up, but I want to know how you're holding up right now. I don't want any of that Wilde sass, or your 'never let them see…' I just need the truth."

"So, you want the truth, huh?" Nick said slowly, bringing up one of his paws to count off of. "Horror number one, I kept on having nightmares of being beaten up by the guards. Horror number two, I kept on having nightmares about being Lenora's real-life baby, breast is best and all. Horror number three, I woke up and my body still aches, and I thought every sound coming from the outside was those guards returning to finish the job. As for horror number four…" pausing, Nick look up and gulped, before carrying on. "Well, prepare to have your opinion of me forever lowered."

"Try me," Madge said.

Nick sighed, bringing his paws up to massage his temples, before speaking on. "My brain must have been fried into a mess, because on all of those occasions… all of them… I wanted that damn Rhino."

"What do you mean, wanted?"

There was a beep as Nick's collar went orange, before he turned his head to look at the stack of items on the desk. "Hey, what's with that stuff Madge. I mean, I'm getting a good smell from something in there."

Turning back, he was met with a wall of silence, the honey badger looking on and one of her feet impatiently tapping the floor.

"Fine," Nick groaned, as he covered his eyes with his paws in shame. "I… I felt safe in the dream with her. I felt happy, and safe, and like I was a baby kit and she my mommy… It wasn't really a horror at all. And in the other dreams, and when I woke up and thought someone was coming to finish me... I wanted her to be with me, and to hug me up… I wanted her hoof stroking my head gently, and for her to tell me I was a good boy… Or even a good girl, I didn't care much at that point. God, I'm just a needy, pathetic, useless…"

He was cut off by a quick shock of his collar, his body jolting slightly due to it. Taking his paws off his face, he looked away from Madge, curling his body up into a defensive spiral.

There was a light touch on his shoulder and his body uncurled a bit, even more so when the touch turned into a light rub.

"You're not any of those things," came a comforting voice. "We've been through this before. You are brave, and strong, and I will not let you forget that."

"I keep on forgetting that I hate that Rhino though don't I?" He cursed back. "I hate her and want her gone from my life. I'd even be happy to ask Damien to kill her now… But other parts of me want that other thing and…"

"If it's split personality you're worried about, don't worry," Madge said. "It's much simpler, and easier to explain than that."

"Go on then."

"I'd say, as a vet and not a psychologist mind you, that it's something similar to Storkholm syndrome," Madge innocently explained. "She saved your life twice, so naturally your subconscious would equate that with safety. Then there's the fact that your close proximity, and tight control and high pressure, sound very similar to that dreadful 'attachment therapy' stuff. Pretty much forcing a bond in place, no matter the consequences."

"So, the person I love-hate has been actively turning me into a nut-job," Nick said sarcastically.

"That and the fact that you were almost drowned, so we could have some oxygen starvation of the brain in there too."

…

"…You know just how to cheer a depressed fox up, you know that Patches?"

Madge shook her head slightly, before walking over to the desk. "If by that you mean bringing over a gift from Cherifa, and a picture of bald Texel, then you are quite right Slick."

There was the sound of crumpling sheets, straining bed springs and a collar going up to orange as Nick sat bolt upright in his bed.

"See what I mean?"

Nick nodded, and let a wide smile grow on his face. "Clever Patches."

"Very clever Patches," she replied, bringing over a bakery box, the words  _'Gideon Grey's Real Good Baked Stuff'_  written on the side. "She even asked me to tell you that she brought it from a red fox baker, just so you could know that no prey mammals would profit from your misery. I told her that even you wouldn't be that petty."

Nick chuckled slightly. "I'm afraid she knows me better than you do," he said, opening the box as he did so. His eyes widened, and his collar briefly went orange. "I knew I could smell something good," he commented, holding out the holy pastry within. "It's a blueberry pie from Cherry Pie!"

"That it is," Madge said happily, looking on as Nick pulled down the metal foil and took a great bite out of his treat. Flakes of pastry fell to the bedsheet and the blue filling spread like lava from the corners of his mouth, coating his fur. There was a beep as his collar went orange once more, and he moaned and twitched as if he was making love, rather than simply eating. He held it in his mouth, chewing it over and over, until he finally swallowed, his tail thumping on the bed excitedly as he did so.

"Oh taste," he sighed. "How I have missed such a wonderful sense while I've been in here. Oh how hard it will be to go back to porridge, soggy sandwiches, economy bug mash and kibble."

"Side note, Slick," Madge noted. "There actually isn't any regulation that limits how much food a prisoner can be sent. Unless under disciplinary action, or said gifts being unsuitable, there's actually a law against turning gifts from family away."

"That… that would actually be fantastic," Nick said, smiling before he sighed. "Until Caprey and co decide to discipline me for having fur that's too red… Or Lenora confiscates it because I'm not supposed to be on solid food yet…" Looking down, he took another bite out of his pie, and his bad mood vanished as he relived the same glorious taste experience once more.

"Speaking of the former," Madge slowly said, as she passed over her phone. "Finding the image from Honey's recording device gave me an idea for the solution to that issue."

Nick's eyes widened at that, his head tilting to the side. Still chewing though, and not wanting to cut it short, he stayed silent, instead turning to look at the phone. His laugh almost sent him choking and, as he finished off his bite, he brought the picture of the bald and naked sheep close to him, savouring it as much as the food.

"However," the honey badger commented, "I think it's best to keep it a secret just for now. Let's focus on the rhino in the room first."

Finishing his bite, he nodded. "Yeah, while I'm still sane enough to know that I want her removed… What's the plan?"

"I don't know," she said slowly. "We want her to get moved to a separate cell block, where doesn't matter, and, given how Caprey's been covering up her past record with you, we need to have some kind of incident that can prove to the warden that this has to be done."

"Agreed," Nick said slowly. "Definitely a better solution than dispatching her for sure. However much I hate her, I don't really want any blood on my paws or any else's…"

There was a pause, before Madge looked up. "What about on a guard's?"

"You mean get an officer to kill her?" he said slowly.

She nodded. "She ran to defend you twice. If you could sweettalk her into thinking that one of the guards, or maybe one of the inmates who's a particular problem, did stuff to you if and when you got separated for a bit… Maybe not death by cop, but if she gets pacified while trying to enact revenge, it might be enough to get the guards not in the game to rebel against Caprey and have her pushed out."

"I…" Nick began, before nodding. "Let's put that as a reserve. I'll be honest, it may be a stupid gut feeling, but my gut says that I'd feel better pretending to be broken. Make Caprey think I love being with her, and I wouldn't be surprised if he then moves her away."

"That could be another idea," Madge agreed, "though, like the one I suggested, let's try and find a better one. It could take years for it to work."

"I know," the fox said, shrugging. "I said it was a stupid gut feeling." He turned down and jabbed a finger at his stomach. "You're an idiot, you know that?"

A smile grew across Madge's face and she tutted. "I'm afraid we both seem to be out then," she commented. "Now, my shift starts soon, but we still have six days to come up with a plan. Either that or I learn how to do sex changes!"

Finishing with a laugh, she watched on as Nick took another bite of his food, his excited chewing slowing markedly. He stopped, looked up to her and shielded his mouth with a paw as he spoke. "What do you mean, sex change?"

Madge shrugged. "She's in a male prison as she's not yet had the full operation. She still has a penis, and until that goes she has to stay here. After, though, the poor sods in the lady's jail would be handling her. I shiver to think of the shock that they'd be receiving."

Swallowing, Nick nodded his head. "Right. Is she due for this operation soon?"

"Never," Madge said solemnly. "Not unless we get a big donation in the charity fund, that is."

The fox nodded slightly, before turning back to take another bite of pie. Closing in on it, he paused.

…

He placed his pie down, his mouth still slightly agape and his right paw wavering up and down as he thought.

…

His eyes widened, and he turned back to Madge. "How much would that cost?"

"I think the target for her is thirty-thousand bucks," she said, shrugging.

A huge grin grew across his face, his collar going orange. The sound caused Madge's ears to flick and, looking on, she trembled and let a huge smile grow across her face, her collar going orange too. "Twenty bucks a pred," Nick said. "Four hundred preds a day… that's less than a week's worth of our Wild Times earnings!"

Madge shook slightly as her mouth strained, trying to grin further than was possible, and she barked out a sudden laugh, easily ignoring the light shock it earned her. "Of course!" she said. "How could I be so stupid!"

"Clever Fox, dumb Patches," Nick laughed too, before controlling himself to make sure he didn't get the same treatment. "I have more than that in my account, as do the others. That's not getting to the stuff buried in the desert!"

Nodding, a big smile on her face, Madge spoke up. "Just like with the gift rule, there's a rule about finances and such. Even if someone's in solitary, they can't deny someone the right to manage their bank accounts. I can meet with the warden and sort this out today! You don't even have to write a letter!"

"Let me just say this one thing," Nick said, before giving two thumbs up and winking. "Winning!"

"That we are," Madge replied. "That we are. Now, my shift starts soon, so I'd better be going."

"Understood, and thanks," he replied, passing back her phone as he did so. He paused slightly, and his collar went up to orange.

"I really mean it, you know…" he slowly but sincerely said, as he spoke from his heart. "Thankyou. No mammal has ever shined a brighter light for me, nor been there for me in such a dark a place as this."

…

Madge paused, looking at him and sniffing slightly. Running a finger below an eye, she spoke back. "I'll keep on shining for you, I promise." She turned to leave, only to halt as Nick called out.

"Speaking of letters, what's going on outside."

…

"Patches?"

…

"Madge?"

…

The honey badger turned slowly, and Nick gulped as he saw her collar go orange. Her face seemed to be set in stone, but her eyes looked scared. Slowly, she took a newspaper from the pile and threw it over to the fox in the bed. As he caught it and looked at the headline, his eyes going wide, she spoke.

"I'm sorry…" she tried to explain. "I thought it best not to tell you right away, let you recover a bit first, but…"

She was cut off by the sound of his collar going off, shaking him slightly. He groaned, but didn't speak a word after, only flicking his ears as he carried on reading. She noticed the one with the ugly tag in it did so more than the other one.

"I appreciate the thought," Nick said afterwards, barely in a whisper. He folded the paper, put it away, and clutched his head with his paws.

"If you're mad at me, that's fine, I…"

"I'm not mad Madge, as I said I appreciated the thought," he interrupted. Looking back, he chewed his lips and grabbed his collar, tugging it slightly. "However, I had an idea last night, and I think it needs to be put into action."

"What idea?" she asked.

"See if you can send Damien around here soon, will you?"

"He's up here later today for a check-up, a meetup… or at least a letter below a door… can be arranged."

"Good," Nick noted. "I need him to smuggle out a letter."

"Why? What are you going to do?" Madge said, as Nick reached over to a bed stand and brought out a pencil and some paper.

"I'm going to force their paw and end this," he promised.

.

.

* * *

.

.

Travelling in convoy formation, charging into the Zootopia dockyards, Judy was silent in her cruiser. The radio channel was on, waiting for responses, though none came. The car rumbled, shaking slightly as it followed the large armoured vans in front of her, each one loaded up with SWAT or the Razorbacks from T.U.S.K. Not one of the lower divisions, Judy had to remind herself, but the top of the class. The real deal. The three most feared officers in the entire ZPD.

Half a dozen squad cars, filled with regular officers, were trailing behind, and two helicopters circled overhead.

The radio crackled slightly, and Judy's ears rose to listen to it. _"Non-frontline units prepare to take up your positions."_

"Ten-four," she replied back, before peeling off from behind the armoured vans and making her way to a nearby carpark. She, and the officers from a second car, leaped out and ran towards a nearby wall, planting themselves on it. Drawing her dart pistol from her holster, she shuffled along to a small hole in the wall, the missing brick making an ideal arrow slit for her to use. Her weapon raised, she looked through the crosshairs and focussed on the building in front of her. Wide, low-rise, a smallish workshop that was innocuous enough. The car park in front, now covered in massive SWAT mammals racing forwards, was littered with weeds while a few trees could be seen sprouting from the roof.

"Officer Hopps, no sign of hostiles, over," she called into her radio, before looking up again. The massacre the day before had ended with the murderers fleeing, leaving most of their weapons where they lay. Where they got that military hardware from, she had no idea, but everyone knew that they might still have some left over.

Tracking the suspects had been easy and had led them here.

Despite the roaring of the helicopters, the blaring of sirens and the pounding of heavy feet, an unearthly silence seemed to take hold.

The officers paused, in position.

There was a creak as the front door opened, and a white shirt on the end of a pole was waved out. The leader of SWAT, a massive Hippo, called out.

"YOU THERE! STEP OUT INTO THE OPEN NOW!"

Stepping nervously outside was a grey ram, his chest wool flowing out and over his trousers, bare for all to see given the position of his shirt. "Why are you here?" he called out nervously. "I don't understand…"

Looking closer, Judy's eyes narrowed. She pulled up her radio and spoke. "Officer Hopps, over. I have a confirming I.D. on this subject. He is one of our suspects. I presume he's stalling for time. Over."

_"Ten-four, Hopps."_

"…we're just an independent packing company," the ram continued to say, "I don't…"

"WE KNOW WHO YOU ARE. LAY DOWN ON THE FLOOR NOW! OFFICERS, STORM THE BUILDING!" the SWAT captain yelled out.

The sheep's eyes went wide, and he turned to run, barely making one step before Judy sent a dart into his back. Carrying metal armour and riot shields, SWAT officers charged in past him. There was a muffled explosion from behind the building as T.U.S.K breached it and entered.

The regular cops just stayed put, waiting for the all clear.

….

…

_"Attention all officers,"_  the radio crackled.  _"We believe the remaining suspects have exited into a storm drain and are heading inland, over."_

Standing up and looking around, her ears scanning as she did so, Judy raced off. Over to the nearest manhole cover, which she lay her ears on and waited at. Then to the next. And then the next. A crowd of officers followed her and, stopping once more as she reached a fourth.

They were silent.

"Hoof steps," she said, as another officer came over and pulled away the cover. The sounds of curses and back peddling filled the air as the bunny raced to the other edge of the hole, lay down on the ground, and fired three shots in.

The sound of three bodies collapsing into water echoed out and, nodding for some officers to join her, Judy slipped in.

.

.

Two hours later, with four suspects arrested, Judy entered the main building with Bogo at her side. The space was empty, bar the stacks of boxes that lined the walls, and barren. A few cots and army supplies had been found in some of the offices, but it was the centre of the room that everyone was gathering at. At team of officers and workers were busy taking up a section of floor, hacking away at it with pickaxe or scooping up the jelly like mass with shovels.

"Another day, and this would have been a lot harder," Bogo stated.

"At least they didn't use quick drying cement," Judy added.

There was a click, metal against metal, and a group of workers raced towards the place it had happened at. Crowding around, they dug away, quickly exposing the entombed sniper rifle.

"I am going to teach these monsters what true savagery is," the chief growled, looking on at the scene with disgust. "Whichever one is this Bell Conagher is going to wish he was that corpse we found."

…

"Assuming this isn't the same ruse all over again," Judy commented. The statement hung in the air, and she felt the looming presence of the chief turn, towering over her even more-so.

"I used to think you naïve, Hopps. Me being the experienced pessimist…."

Judy thought about replying but didn't have to, as the chief pinched the bridge of his muzzle sharply and spoke.

"It seems we have swapped positions," he said, before turning to leave. "I need to go outside for my stress relief. Before I do so, any astute observations Junior detective?"

Following behind him, Judy spoke up. "All I know is that this is making Preds hate Prey more, and vice versa. If he even is involved in this attack, that is."

"The only thing this place has done recently is import and export a bunch of smoke detectors," Bogo commented. "Now they have military hardware. I'm pretty sure he's involved."

"Whether he is or not, we need to stop this," Judy said resolutely, her fist thumping into her palm. "He's trying to stoke up predators and wants them to give an ugly reaction. Because they're the ones who'll get hurt and punished when that happens, no matter who started it. You said so yourself."

"Do you think they'll give an ugly reaction?" Bogo asked.

"I don't know," the bunny officer replied. "But we'll likely find out in a few days."

.

.

* * *

.

.

Dear Predators of Zootopia.

This is Nick Wilde speaking.

.

I'm someone who likes to joke a lot. Be funny. Try and eke out a laugh out of a dark moment, just to help me or others get through the day.

Today is different though.

When I read about the massacre, I felt as if the blood was being drained from me. I felt weak and tired and powerless, like a piece of driftwood carried by the waves. Seeing the pictures, and just trying to imagine the numbers…

I couldn't.

It just seems too awful to consider.

This was done by the same enemies who killed Gazelle. Who darted predators, knowing that they would have their lives taken away from them as a result. Who framed me and has been lashing out more and more ever since.

I don't want you to stop what you're doing. It pleases me so much to see that we, the ten-percent who were so helpless before, can create such a big change. While my access to the outside world is a bit limited so far, I am pretty certain that the mayor hasn't even bothered to respond to our requests. Instead, she's urging the police to spend their time trying to undo our good work, while at the same time catching these terrorists. Instead, I think we can turn our actions up a bit. We predators can't be at the mercy of these two evils any more. We can't just be useless things thrown around, our lives fated by the dictates and machinations of those who hate us. So, we're going to force their paw.

I'd called it a hustle, but that's a misuse of the word.

It's an ultimatum.

Accept our demands by the end of the month, or else on the first we'll all cut off and remove our collars.

Think about it for a second.

There are tales of them killing those who try to remove the device for sure, but when I checked the law books and medical data it turns out there's no way for that to really happen. It's a myth the prey spread to scare us. That's all.

The collars are held on by a tough fabric. But I know that a sharp pair of scissors or some shears and some patience can get through it. There is the anti-tamper detector, but any shocks from that can be defeated via a something insulating like wood or plastic, or something conductive like a metal plate placed beneath the shockers. Why not use both?

The reason no-one did this before, alongside fear from the tales and myths, was that you couldn't put your collar back on afterwards. No collar meant that, on being seen outside, it was life in solitary for you.

But what are they going to do if we all have no collars?

They can't build enough prisons, and certainly can't afford to run them all.

Instead they'll only have one option.

Give us our collar free zones.

They can still think we're dangerous savages who you have to steer clear from. They can still think that a whiff of blood is enough to turn us into monsters. They can still believe that we're born without morals or even created by the devil.

But we'll have our emotions back and they can sleep 'safe' at night.

This way they don't lose anything, and we win big time.

And if they don't, and we end up without our collars? I guess they'll just have to learn that complete collar prohibition isn't the end of world. They might end up evolving beyond their primitive fearful ways, might they not?

And as for those who've been working to harm us. Those behind my framing, Gazelle's death and the massacre…

Your days of scaring us and us being at your mercy will soon be over. And I want you to remember that you brought your own failure on yourself. You messed with the wrong fox, Lupus.

This is all on you.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter 20**

 

A short knock on the door rung out and the warden quickly looked up. “Come in,” he said, before turning back to his paper. There was a creak as the door opened, before a set of deep and loud thuds. Frowning slightly, the koala felt himself behind bumped up and down, lifted up in his seat by the heavy footprints of one of the new arrivals.

He placed his paper down and gripped the edges of his chair, holding himself on, though it didn’t stop his glasses falling off the tip of his nose. He let go, though, when he saw the mess being made of the top of his desk. The various items spread about, from picture frames to knick-knacks, were thrown around, their previously carefully curated chaos turned into downright disorder. Standing up and leaning over, he gathered up a few of his pieces before the vibrations stopped, its source standing in front of him.

“Sit down Lenora,” he said, smiling as he did so.

The Rhino seemed to jump down onto the chair, her weight making it creak and snap slightly under the strain. The shake was so bad that the warden fell forward, splayed out on the desk, while a wall clock was thrown clean off its hook and went crashing to the ground.

“That last one was a biggun!” the warden chuffed, nervously placing his items back into position and sitting back down again, placing his glasses back on. “That’s the most I’ve been shaken my entire life!” He almost shouted it out, smiling as he did so. Shaking his head, he shrugged. “I thought that my time in that Dagoata could never be topped. But you beat reptile flak cannons there, you know that?”

“Oh yeah sir,” Lenore replied, smiling and nodding. “I do now. Thank you.”

By her side were two guards, a pig and another Rhino, along with a familiar face. Madge Badger. Her ears had perked up with what the warden had said, and she chewed her lip before speaking. “I didn’t know you flew in the outback war,” she said. “I’d have thought you were too young for service.”

The warden blinked and looked at her seriously. “I was. I was a passenger in that plane… But we’re not here to talk about the past.” He trailed off, before quickly turning back to Lenora and smiling. “We’re here to talk about you.”

“What, me?” the Rhino asked. “Did I do something bad? Did I…”

“No, no, calm down dear,” he assuaged her. “It’s about your condition.”

“My… the fact I have boy bits?”

“Yes, ‘boy bits’,” the koala said, chuckling at the nomenclature chosen. He turned over to some files and parsed through them. “Thanks to a significant and anonymous donation, we now have enough money in the charity bin to fund it. From what I gather, there’s a specialist team for big girls like you who could start in a few weeks. We can put you into the medical wing to check things over right away, and soon enough it’ll be done! That sounds good?”

“Oh yes!” Lenora replied, smiling. “I do like the sound of that. I really do. Thank you, sir.”

“Well,” he began, holding out a paw. “I hope that it goes swiftly, and that you’ll find new friends in both the women’s prison, and in your new life once you’re released. Keep yourself safe.”

“Oh, I will! And keep Georgina safe for me too. Fix her up next so we can be together again.”

The warden coughed slightly, squinting at her. “Georgina?” he asked, sceptically.

“Oh yes,” the eager rhino enthusiastically replied. “She’s my floofy woofy pet foxy woxy! I’ve been training her up real good you see! And lots of nasty mammals keep on trying to hurt her, even though she’s mine.”

The warden, blinking, turned to look at Madge. The honey badger was emotionless, just staring back at him. Turning, he looked up at the rhino and gave her a wave. “I promise I’ll try. Farewell.”

“Bye-bye sir!” the rhino said, waving, as she stood up. The guards moved in to escort her, while Madge came forwards and waited at the desk, noticing the mess on the top and shrugging as she did so. The warden nodded, and they both watched and braced themselves as the megafauna was led away, vanishing behind the door.

.

“Do you want a hand?” Madge offered, as the koala leant forwards, cradling his face in his paws.

“No… no… thanks for the offer though.”

She watched him silently for a bit, as he cleaned up his desk. Her eyes hovered over the picture of the town with the water tower and, remembering his story, she felt obliged to speak. “I didn’t know you ended up cutting it so close.”

“Madge,” he said forlornly. “Am I losing it?”

…

“Pardon, sir.”

He looked up and shrugged. “ _Durum hostem videre vultus interdum videtur quod sic video in te, Interdum mihi. Quis ille sit.”_

Madge paused, and looked down at the bronze engraving fastened to the front of the desk. “Still correct,” she said, before looking up. “Your memory is completely intact.”

“But is it though!?” he stressed. “I mean, here I am learning that one of my closest colleagues, Caprey, may been wrong or even lying through his teeth about… Or could I have been just thinking too hard about it? Maybe nothing bad was going on like he said, and she’s the...” He trailed off, clutching his head in his paws and thinking.

“I… I don’t think that Caprey is all he seems when he comes to meet you,” Madge said diplomatically, carefully picking the right words.

The warden closed his eyes and took a deep breath in and out. “I know, and that’s what really scares me… I made myself promise that I’d keep everything here in order, running well and safely, until the day I couldn’t go on. And if it was my memory that went, I’d know as I’d forget this sign I put up, saying something or other. It could be a fart joke for all I know… But Madge, what if this is the last thing I forget? I lose everything else, and carry on causing more harm than good, unknowingly of course, all while thinking I was fine…”

“Warden,” Madge said, feeling a bit of shame given that she herself wasn’t being entirely truthful, lest she overexpose herself to a counterattack by Caprey. “I swear that I will tell you if you fall into such a state, and in terms of doing good, you’re doing an awful lot of it.”

He smiled slightly, before waving her off. “And Madge,” he called out, catching her ear as she left. “It might be you with the memory problem instead. How many times have I told you to call me Nigel.”

“A very significant number, far too many for any reasonable person to recount,” the honey badger said back, as she closed the door and left.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The air in the ZPD lab could be cut with a knife. Bogo, Judy, the hedgehog mortician and multiple other mammals all looked on tensely.

In front of them was a cadaver.

A white tigress.

She lay on her back on the gurney, stripped down and covered with a blood-stained sheet. Her limbs stiff from the rigor mortis, her body pail from the blood she’d lost.

“One of the victims from the massacre,” the chief slowly said, as he walked forwards and looked down at her. “Struck by two bullets, one of which cut her heart. She was found with her phone in paw, having tried to call her husband. She’s been dead for six days now.”

The chief paused, looking over to a pair of mammals at the back of the room, a gerenuk with a chipmunk on his shoulder.

“How long do the thing’s charge last for?”

The chipmunk, dressed in a white lab-coat, adjusted his glasses as his perch walked up. “Without the charge added by the three oscillation inductors, along with the thermopile, nothing is added. But given that nothing is being taken away, it could stay at its previous charge level for months, if not years.”

There was a small cough, Judy clearing her throat as she came forwards. “It works on heartbeat… correct?” she said nervously.

“Heartbeat, blood pressure, as well as several audio devices that pick up sudden bursts of volume, making sure they’re from up ahead, of course,” he explained, before pausing. “If you’re worried about it hastening her demise, you needn’t worry. The wound would have caused a drop-in blood pressure. Given that the skin contact detector would have worked out that it wasn’t being tampered with, and that there’s been software in place for the last half a century to be far more forgiving while blood pressure is dropping, her demise wouldn’t have been hastened via shocks if that is what you were thinking. We’re not savages, after all.”

“Indeed, there were no shock marks present,” the mortician added.

“So then,” Bogo announced, gathering the visiting pairs attention. “It is still active?”

“That is correct.”

“And before you ask,” the other half of the pair, the gerenuk, began. “What Wilde postulated in his letter was correct. While the first versions of the collar had a device designed to shock you if you tried to cut through, something that Wilde’s insulation remedy would render useless anyway, it was phased out when Goatz electronics created the version three. While our company only came into this industry ten years ago, the mark six hasn’t been fundamentally changed for fifty years.”

“So, there’s nothing stopping every predator in the city from cutting them off, IS THAT RIGHT!?” Bogo yelled out, leaning forwards and yelling, forcing all in attendance to retreat slightly.

“Uh… -no. No, that’s not quite true. Not quite,” the smaller mammal stammered out. “There is the anti-tamper device, designed to detect shaking, pulling away, and obstructing items. The cases of modern deaths due to collar removal attempts are likely hyperbole, based off of mammals who were trying to shake and tear theirs off in fits of rage. Removal previously wasn’t a problem due to the fact that, as that fox put it, no-one could put them back on again and that was the end of you. It was a social institution. Raw opposition to the collars had been burnt out by that point, replaced with acceptance for the newly integrated order and its benefits.”

“And did no-one at your company ever _think_ about that not being the case anymore?” Bogo hissed, glaring at the two.

“No,” came the deadpan reply from the gerenuk, quickly added to by his partner.

“Before it was cancelled, the new-century-new-collar initiative had been looking at increased affordability, as well as sustainable technologies such as reduced plastic usages and integrated solar power. As for the current mark seven open competition, we were looking at ways to reduce the act of ‘shock sharing’, where a parent or partner puts their paw under the collar to shield the intended recipient.” He smiled slightly, as if proud. “In fact I …”

“Why would you want to do that!?”

Silence filled the room and all eyes turned to Judy. The bunny stood there, looking up at the pair. “Why would you want to stop that from happening?” she asked again, still confused.

The chipmunk shrugged. “It’s a design fault. One which my solution of dispersed shock points would have fixed.”

“But… but, stopping parents from shielding their children?”

“…Yes,” he replied innocently back.

“Hopps,” the chief warned, “where are you going with this?”

“When I was escorting Gazelle’s ambulance back to the hospital, one of her tigers was crying in the back,” she recounted. “His collar shocked him. A panda was next to him, and her reaction made me think that such a thing is normal.”

“Where’s this going, Hopps?” Bogo asked.

Judy took a deep breath in and out. “That woman over there, does she have cubs…? -That’s not important. Let’s just assume she does. Her husband would have to pick up her cubs, her children, and tell them that their mother wouldn’t be coming back. That she was gone. That they’d never see her again, because someone who hates tigers decided to put a bullet through her heart as she handed out food and leaflets. That’s horrible enough as it is, and then their father would need to watch them cry out their eyes and shock themselves silly doing so. He’d want to take on their pain, as that’s what parents do, and because no-one deserves something like this to happen to them… Yet you believe that the fact that he can make a small sacrifice, to make the worst days in his children’s lives slightly less worse, is a design fault?”

…

“Well it is, isn’t it?”

Judy sneered at him and growled out. “Maybe you should have actually spent that time designing a collar that only shocks a pred when he’s an actual threat! Not when he or she’s just experiencing too much of any random emotion!”

“-Hopps…” the chief warned, stepping forwards.

“Or maybe conduct a study, as you guys _really_ should have done a while back, to actually make sure that they’re even needed in the first…”

“HOPPS!” the chief bellowed, shaking the rabbit out of her tirade. She stepped back, blinking, looking up at but slightly away from him.

“My apologies sir, I…”

“We’ll discuss this afterwards, alone.” He replied, stressing the final word.

Judy was silent as the chief stepped over and grabbed the tigers collar. He pulled it up and shook it, twisting it, pulling at the shocker unit. It protested almost immediately, and quickly a spark flickered from shock point to shock point. Letting it fall back down, the chief bent down and picked up a pair of kitchen scissors, quickly getting to work.

It was slow going.

But bit by bit, he gnawed through the fabric. There were a few orange lights, but he let them go back down, until he eventually sliced all the way through.

The broken collar clattered to the floor, and the chief sighed, bringing his hooves up to his face. A quick wave, and he sent the entire entourage behind him packing.

All bar one.

“In all these years,” he said, his tone level and normal. Judy just gulped, unsure of what was coming next. “Must you doubt? When none of us have doubted at all?”

“… It appears so, sir.”

“Why?”

“Because of what I’ve seen, and what I’ve heard… I can’t say that this is the right thing anymore sir,” she replied confidently.

The chief was silent for a few seconds, until some mixture of a snort and laugh came out of him. He turned around, smiling. “I told you to be quiet back then for a few reasons. We have more pressing things to focus on, as well as things we need to respect,” he said, gesturing at the corpse behind him as he did so. “In addition, I didn’t want my migraine getting any worse, which it would have done had you got into an argument with that technician. Now, let me preface this by saying that I agree with you entirely on the shock sharing issue, even though his solution sounds like it would make Wilde’s plan far more tricky. Can you promise not to interrupt me until I’m over?”

“Yes sir.”

“I learnt a long time ago that collars shock mammals if they get too intense, period. In a way, though, that’s not entirely a bad thing. Manic grief can turn into suicide, while expressions of joy can end up in stupidity. Let us remember Francine’s bachelorette party…”

Judy blushed quite significantly at that but didn’t respond.

“But these are small fry, though, to the damage that can be caused by impulse,” Bogo continued. “I’m sure you’ve seen, as I’ve seen much of, the sheer number of impulse crimes that exist. Now, I believe that predators are quicker to flare up than prey. They flare up higher. They are far more dangerous than prey when flared up… And, while I believe that it’s for the greater good that we have the collars, I understand the patent unfairness of them. In my view, every mammal should wear collars and accept the burden, or none should and we all shoulder the risk. Both would likely mean no collars after about a year… You may ask one or two questions now.”

Judy’s eyes widened, and she did so. “But if you think this, how come you enforce the laws? Didn’t we vow to act with trust, bravery, and integrity?”

“Because it’s my duty, Hopps,” he explained, looking away slightly. “You and I have different views, but we both stand for the same thing. We’re both brave, let’s get that out of the way, but trust and integrity. You believe in integrity, doing the right thing, correct?”

“Correct,” she firmly replied. “Making the world a better place. Always.”

“And I assume that you want people to be able to trust you to do the right things?”

“Affirmative. And…”

“And how does it look to people who you’ve sworn this to, when you start selectively changing and breaking the laws of the land,” the chief interrupted, looking down, straight into Judy’s eyes.

She was silent.

Bogo smiled, and carried on. “We have public laws, and systems, and courts, all designed to produce a code of laws that we, as a society, must abide by. As an officer, it is my duty to uphold these laws. To the letter. To the last word. We are a constant.”

“And if those laws are evil?”

“What people think of as good and evil is always changing, Hopps,” the chief said slowly. “The idea of a cop who breaks the law, and stands up for good, seems nice. But if we allow that, we allow the flipside. A cop who breaks the law and stands for bad. We normalise one, we normalise the other. It doesn’t matter the intention either, so much bad can be done by mammals with good hearts.”

“You didn’t answer my question, sir.”

“As I said before, we have courts and legal systems and government. It’s through those that we change the laws, Hopps. It’s through those that the collars, if they are banned, should be banned from, not some renegade cop uncollaring preds. If you don’t believe the collars are needed anymore, I have no issue with you protesting or campaigning. But while you wear that badge, the badge of the law…”

“I stand behind the law, warts and all,” the bunny replied, taking a breath in and steeling herself as she did so. She nodded, before bringing her paw up in a firm salute.

Bogo reciprocated, before turning to leave. “I’ll be having a meeting with the mayor this afternoon. Due to your connection with both Wilde and our terrorist wolf, she requested that you come along to.”

“I will, sir.”

“Good,” he said. “As I was saying before, we have channels for changing the law. Let us not waste them.”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The gate to the medical wing opened and Nick walked out. His paws were cuffed together, and he was led on by Caprey.

The goat looked back at him furiously, baring his teeth, before ramming his elbow back hard. Hitting Nick’s gut, he stumbled back and doubled over, wheezing, before being hauled on before he had a chance to catch his breath again.

“Yer plan isn’t going ter werk,” he said.

Nick remained silent.

“We’re going ter see every dumb chomper who cuts ther collar off shot, or locked up, or best yet both!”

…

“Fox, I’m going ter kill yer.”

…

“Didn’t yer HEAR ME!” he yelled, turning around and jabbing Nick in the chest with his truncheon. Bar a small grimace on his muzzle, he didn’t react.

“I ASKED DIDN’T YER HERE ME! ANSWER ME! I ORDER YER TER ANSWER ME!”

…

Two hooves shot forwards and grabbed Nick, before tossing him forwards. With his hands locked together, he fell and collided with the floor.

His collar went orange, but he still didn’t react.

Caprey was silent to for a bit, before sniggering. “Clumsy fox, bad f _aaaa_ ’ll ther.” His brows furrowing, he reached down and grabbed Nick by his scruff, pulling him up. There was a light shock, a little pinch, which made the goat glower. It soon turned to a frown those as the limb ragdoll he was holding stayed motionless.

“Lenora may be gone,” he warned, “but I will be here longer than ther war-den, believe me. An’ when he’s gone, ther’s gonna be a little accident. And then, I’ll transfer over to ther high security block, an’ tell yer ma’ and pa’ how I did it…”

Leaning forwards, he took in the face of his captive, Nick keeping his eyes and mouth shut. Expressionless. Emotionless.

“If it weren’t fer keeping on ther war-den’s good side, I’d punch yer muzzle in right now. Understand me?”

Caprey released his paw and Nick dropped to the ground, recovering slightly as he regained control of his muscles. He looked forwards, past his abusing and back down the corridor.

Snorting, Caprey pushed Nick forwards with his truncheon, keeping a heavy amount of pressure on the small of the fox’s back. The two walked in silence, as they descended, approaching the entrance to Nick’s block.

“An’ I even got a call from city haaaaa’ll,” he whispered, as the time came to uncuff Nick and send him back inside. “Someone ther want yer dead, and I can set it up like that!”

He clicked his fingers, before giving Nick a light whack on the thigh, sending him back inside.

.

It had been a week of rest and recovery.

.

And boredom.

.

The time alone had begun to gnaw at him and, now more understanding of the warden’s vow not to put him in isolation, he was glad to have the chance of talking to a fellow mammal.

Of not being locked up in his cell.

.

A pang of guilt overcame him, his collar going orange as he climbed the stairs to his level.

He was glad to be coming back here after a week.

How many weeks had his parents been like that?

He knew they had no visitation rights, and were isolated, but was it true solitary?

Did they have their own Madge’s?

Were they visited every day by a Caprey.

Or had they not seen anyone since the day they were thrown into their cells.

…

“Hey Matey? Why so glum?”

Nick looked up and saw Damien up ahead, leaning against the guardrail. The sickly fox was looking even more so today, his fur looking as if it were all about to fall off. Nick wasn’t sure whether that would happen before or after he collapsed and fell into a deep sleep.

“Earth to Nickster…!”

“Oh, right, uh…. -run in with Caprey,” Nick spurted out, coming to his senses.

Damien looked back and shrugged. “Yeah. Looks like a Caprey to me. Now though Matey, I hear we’re bunkies now!”

Nick relaxed and smiled. “Yes, and about time to.”

Damien sneered at him. “Right after you get rid of the problem! You had a solo bunk, but now you come and crowd me out!”

His eyes going wide, Nick walked forwards and peered inside his old cell. It was completely empty, not a trace of the rhino that once occupied it. “She’s gone…”

“No shit, Shirelock. But you’re still giving up the free cell.”

Sniggering, bringing a paw up to his face, Nick turned back to look at the other fox. “You should be honoured that I chose you then.”

“Well… I guess I am a bit,” he said, before heading back to his own cell. Nick followed, entering it and spotting his meagre shoebox of items resting on the top bunk. A hop up, and he was looking through it all, checking that his puzzles and such were still there. He paused though, as he noticed a new addition.

A bottle of pills, with a note attached.

_‘Shift rotas meant I couldn’t give these to you before I left. Sorry. Honey based pain pills for when Caprey and co get too rough.’_

His head tilting, Nick opened the top and looked inside, poking a finger in. “If this is what I think it is… -It is,” he huffed, rolling his eyes as he screwed the lid on and placed the bottle back in his box. “Madge,” he murmured, “it seems that we’re both cursed to get our timings just that little off.” He lay down, eyes closing as he thought.

…

“Want to talk about anything? Damien?”

.

“Describe to me the sexiest vixen you’re ever seen. I’ll jack off. Then we switch roles Matey. Sound good?”

.

“I -uh…”

There was a shuffle from below and Damien’s head poked up above the bed level. “We can practice that after lights out. I did my first one then. You break down the apprehension an’ nervousness pretty quickly.”

Biting his lower lip, Nick tilted his head and looked at the other fox. “Uh… sounds good? I just thought you might want to learn about what’s going on outside you know.”

“We get papers an’ radio an’ some tv, I have a good idea,” he shrugged, before grinning a bit. “An’ good one with the collar cutting Matey. I like that style.”

Nick smiled and turned to look up at the ceiling. “Style is something of a speciality for me.”

“Gonna show them grazers we’re sick an’ tired of this all!”

“Yeah!”

“YEAH!”

Damien’s shout was accompanied by his collar going up to orange and the accompanied beep. Both foxes paused, and turned to look at it, staring daggers at it after it ruined the mood. Damien shrugged, and sat back down on his bunk again.

.

.

“When did she go?”

“Why you want to know, Matey?”

Nick huffed, shrugging as he answered. “I don’t know. Just curious.”

“Two day ago.”

“Right…”

.

“Don’t frickin’ tell me you miss her.”

.

“I hate her guts, but…”

“She screwed you up so much you have Storkholm syndrome,” Damien muttered, chuckling slightly.

“I… I guess,” Nick replied, jumping down from his bunk and looking at the other fox. “I guess that maybe I wanted one last goodbye? Some closure? I don’t know… And I mean she did save my life twice. Now though, I… Well, what happens if some other jerk wants to have a go at me?”

Damien’s collar went orange, and he stood up. “I think I’m guilty of not doing enough to get the answer to that across.”

“What do you mean?” Nick asked, as the other fox put an arm around his shoulder and led him out. He didn’t answer at first, but as he exited the cell he realised that he didn’t need to. In front of them, hanging about in a great crowd, was every predator in the cell block. Their heads turned in unison at the sight of Nick, and they parted like the red sea as he walked forwards. Arms were outstretched to touch him or fired up by their owners into salutes. Collars turned orange and flickered red, as each pred saw Nick.

“Lenora terrified everyone, Matey,” Damien said apologetically, before stiffening up. “But any punk that wants a piece of you now will need to go through all of us. You are those most important pred in the world, and we’re a bunch of nobodies. But I guess it feels good to be doing something worthwhile for once…” He sighed, shaking his head as his collar went up to orange, his voice becoming more sincere than it had ever been. “Nicholas Wilde, I want you to know that, even though it doesn’t mean much given that I’m a walking corpse, I’d give my life to save you. I’d like to thank you for giving me that kind of chance. I think most of us would...”

Damien brought his paw up into a firm salute, and, for a moment, the bedraggled fox in his prison uniform, ear tag and collar looked like a true soldier.

And then, eyes determined and proud, Nick saluted back, his face firm like stone with resolve.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't notice this last chapter, but we're over 100K.
> 
> Also, I initially uploaded this chapter last week by mistake. If any of you are feeling deja-vu, that is why. You may have missed the real previous chapter, and want to catch up with it first.
> 
> Finally, for those interested, I'll be resuming the updating of Embers of the Past tomorrow. So, if you've been thinking bout reading it, now's the time to read the first two chapters and get caught up.

**Chapter 21**

 

A claw gently pulled back on the card, lifting it up from the one behind. Its base held firmly by Nick’s other paw, it bent up and down, flexing as its holder thought. His eyes narrow, one of his fangs pinching the outside of his lower lip as if he hadn’t grown out of it being his snaggletooth many years before.

A swish of his tail, and he spoke.

“Got any eights…”

A head shot up from below, level with Nick’s own as it rested on his top bunk. Damien, twitching up his face and squinting his right eye, looked on at his bunkmate in all his smug glory. He silently brought up his cards and pulled out three cards, handing them over. Nick’s smile grew as he combined them with a card from his paw, flashing the entire set forwards just to prove he wasn’t cheating, before placing it down next to the other stacks of four.

Damien sat down again, and spoke. “Got any queens up there?”

“Ooooh, bad luck I’m afraid,” Nick replied, earning an annoyed grunt from below. “But look on the bright side, you might catch a big juicy swordfish this time…”

“Yeh, yeh matey,” the other fox grunted, as he stepped over and pulled a card off of the pile on the floor.

Looking on intently, spotting a slight rise in Damien’s untagged ear, Nick spoke out. “Joker, mayhaps?”

“HOW!” Damien shouted, ignoring the light flick coming from his collar as he stood up, pulling out the card for Nick to see.

He took the card, combined it with his own joker, and placed it down. “I’ll admit that you had a tell on that one. Your ear rose slightly, so it was going to be something unusual.”

“And the other times, how do you do it? Any two’s?”

“Trade secret, and go fish.”

Damien groaned, pulling another card from the pile.

“Seriously though,” he carried on, “you’re taking too little time to think these through. You need to have some strategy to this. How about some nine’s?”

“Ha! None,” Damien called out, as Nick drooped himself over the bunk and retrieved another card. “Fours?”

“Go fish,” Nick replied, “and it’s impossible to not have to go-fish all the time. Is it? The important thing is to remember what has come before and what can come next. Any two’s?”

Damien paused, midway through bringing up his card, and groaned. He picked out two cards from his hand, along with the one he was carrying, and sent them up. Nick smiled as he placed them with his set. The fox below thought for a second, before speaking. “Queens?”

“Nope!” Nick happily replied, rolling his eyes and shaking his head in disappointment. “Kings?”

“Go fish yourself matey.”

“My pleasure.”

“Seriously though, can we play something else afterwards?” Damien complained. “This is boring with two mammals, one’s who’s a freak at this. An’ we’re still stuck in here for a few more hours…”

“You’re just jealous,” Nick joked, giving a soft hmmm as he looked at his new card. Peeking out from below, Damien furrowed his brow as Nick combined it with three cards from his own paw and placed them with the rest of his sets.

“What was that?”

“Why would I tell you,” Nick said, shrugging. “Bad idea to let go of your strategic advantage. Want to do snap afterwards? Sixes?”

“No idea. Get that. No. Yes,” came the reply, along with a card being sent up. “Nines?”

A paw came down with two cards, and Damien pumped his fist at the site. Combining it with two from his hand, he placed them down, alone and proud on his bed.

“So, you’re not completely useless I see,” came a smug tease from above.

“Stop being a jerk, Wilde.”

“Ah, you know you love me.”

“Not really,” Damien growled, pushing his legs up into the underside of Nick’s bunk. Hitting the metal, the fox above shifted slightly but not much happened, causing him to smirk slightly.

“Says the fox who said, and I quote, I’d die for you.”

“I’m dying anyway, an’ I like the idea of being useful you know,” he muttered. “Sticking it in the eye of those prey twats, and protecting someone who stuck it in the eyes of all of them… Nothing really changes, but it seems cool.”

“Odd motivation there.”

“Not really,” Damien sighed. “Thought it would be cool to off my brother and get away with it, you know?”

Nick paused for a second. “No, I don’t.”

“Eeeeeeh,” the other fox huffed. “That brother was a real jerk. Came home drunk constantly. Yanked on our tails. Sleeping around a lot when he had a girlfriend… Any idiot who thinks us foxes mate for life never met that waste of space…”

“So, what did he do to tip you over?” Nick asked, turning down to face the fox below.

“Nothing, really.”

“Seriously?” he asked again, pausing and looking on, both confused and a bit fascinated in a certain morbid way. “No abuse. Nothing nasty? Nothing?”

Damien shrugged. “I just got tired of him prancing about, thought I’d clean things up. Dad doesn’t treat me like I exist anymore, but it was the same with the bad brother. Mother is dead, I don’t think she cares. My other brother says he has mixed feelings…”

“Do you regret doing it?” Nick asked.

“Nah… As I said before. He was a jerk. Had it coming. And I guess I have it too now.” He paused there, looking down and rubbing his chest slightly, before turning back to his cards. “Your go.”

“Uh… ones?”

“Go fi… fi…” Damien broke off as he said it, placing his cards down and standing up. Doubling over, he began coughing. It was loud, a vicious hacking that had him shaking about. Nick observed from above as he launched red tinted phlegm from his throat, before walking over to the sink and taking some drinks of water. He turned, stepping over to a shelf and picking up his bottle of lozenges, taking one and planting it in his mouth, sucking intently through a set of smaller coughs.

Looking on, Nick didn’t notice the guards at the door until they knocked sharply. It was Ramched and Caprey.

“You! Wilde!” the former shouted. “You’re going to be taken to the interview room. Get your stupid buzz tail over here now!”

Looking down briefly at his appendage, now covered in a frizzy layer of short fuzz, Nick turned to face them. “Can I brink my pain meds too, in-case…”

“I don’t caaaa’re,” Caprey slur-bleated. “Get ready.”

Nick did so, opening the container, fishing inside for a few seconds before bringing out a pill, which he threw into his mouth. He placed the bottle inside his sleeve and walked to the door, standing there silently as he was cuffed and shackled up, before being led on.

.

.

“Any news on who wants to see me?” Nick asked, quickly receiving a shoulder in his gut for his question.

“I heard it’s someone in government,” the sheep to Nick’s left said. “I hope they’re hear to tell you that the death penalties back, and you’re going to give it its first new job.”

The fox’s ears fell back slightly, before rebounding. “And I thought you wanted me to rot in here, so that you could beat me up all you want.”

“Twenty, thirty, forty years…” Caprey began. “You’ll be waiting in ‘ere for a very long time. Once we get a real warden in, I can beat you all I like.”

“One of us could be the warden in the future,” Ramched added. “The things I could do. Rather than clipping those claws of yours, I could dig them out with a scalpel. I could use pliers to tear out your teeth one by one. Maybe pluck each piece of fur from your tail, one at a time.”

“You’re… you’re certainly getting more inventive, aren’t you? A step up from sending some goons in to drown me in the toilet.”

“If it weren’t for that stupid rhino protecting you, yer’d of died the way you deserve to, chomper scum!”

Nick looked hard into the goats eye, and spoke. “Whose fault was it that I was in with her, Caprey?”

“That would ‘ave worked, were it not fer that whore chomper nurse,” the goat cursed. “Yer’d of been crumpled up, living as ‘er little bitch. Maybe she’d get rid of yer other ball? Tear out yer new baculum. But that mad monster in her stupid nurse uniform stopped that.”

“We’ll get her too,” Ramched said, smiling as he saw Nick’s collar go up to orange. “We’ll pin her down, and rut her till she fries herself into a crisp. We’ll record it, and play you her screams. If you only care about chomper lives, I want you to hear the one you extinguished.”

Gulping, Nick looked down, the two guards remaining silent as Nick was led into an interview room and cuffed to the table. There was a pause for a bit, the two guards being asked to leave through their radio, before three figures stepped in.

The first was Judy Hopps, her presence bringing a smile to Nick’s face. The second was chief Bogo. No response. But the fox’s eyes widened as the third member of the group came in, Mayor Swinton.

“Ah, premiere Trotterski,” Nick joked, as the pig sat down. Her eyelids half lidded, she looked at him for a second or two before speaking.

“Mr. Wilde.”

It was quick and brief, as if the whole exercise was unpleasant and she wanted to get it over and done with.

There was a brief pause, before Nick replied. “That’s correct. And if you’re here to try and convince me to call my ultimatum off, that’s not going to happen.”

“Even if going ahead would cause the death of every pred who tried it?” Swinton asked.

“If that was the case, wouldn’t it be flashing up and down on every news channel,” the fox said back, moving to cross his arms only to have the action stopped by his chain. “Instead, you have silence. Which sort of makes me believe that I’m right. So that question isn’t very useful, is it? By the end of this month, predators are going to have the right to their emotions back. It’s your choice which way that happens.”

“Being political I see,” the mayor said, quickly cut off as Nick let out a barking laugh, his collar going orange as he did so.

“Says the mayor who chose to invoke certain legal clauses in order to make my trial less fair,” he said, before he looked forwards and his voice became threatening. “All so she could make an example of me and be seen as a chomper stomper? Isn’t that right?”

“Absolutely,” she deadpanned back, causing Nick to pull back, eye’s wide and blinking. “And I will admit that it has backfired on me completely. I’m here to admit defeat, given that you’ve checked me and provided only one exit. Once a set of roadblocks are out of the way, I intend to build a wall around Happytown and create a collar free zone, just like you suggested.”

Nick’s collar flicked red, shaking him slightly. Unflinching himself from the pain, he looked on at her, almost gawking.

…

“Yes, I’m serious,” the mayor added, flashing her hoof up to stop any interruption. “Is that so hard to believe?”

“…Yeeeesss….” He said, very tensely. His head tilted to the side as he looked on, examining her for any tell or sign but only seeing a cold hard mask in return.

There was a grunt from the side, as Judy walked over. “Ni… -Mr Wilde,” she began, glancing up at the two mammals beside her. “I know it may seem hard to believe, but what you wrote in that ultimatum was correct. I was discussing this previously with the chief and mayor and we all agreed. The ZPD doesn’t have nearly the capacity to deal with this full revolt, while bringing the army in with shoot to kill orders was considered far too brutal and risky when compared with your demands, by most mammals at least... They’re taking the path you cleared out for them. They’re literally doing what you predicted.”

He looked at her and blinked a bit, before shaking his head to clear his mind. He closed his eyes, breathed in deep and, as he let it go, smiled wide. “Ahhh, the taste of victory and your enemies humble pie is nice in morning.”

“Thanks for letting me know, given that I’m also about to receive it,” the mayor said, before the chief stepped over.

“We have come to an agreement that certain things must be done before we let these collar free zones open,” he said, the grin on Nick’s face slowly disappearing as he did so. “The main one is the capture of your wolf friend, and the shut down of his nasty little cell. That’s where you come in.”

“Me?”

“Yes, you,” Judy added, as she stepped up, carrying a piece of fabric. “This is a piece of your attacker’s vehicle, from the driver’s seat. It’s been impounded at the ZPD for a while now, care to take a sniff?”

Nick did so several times, his eyes narrowing as he breathed it in. “Oh yeah, that’s that punching bag.”

“Indeed,” the mayor added, “though your nose must be better than mine. I can’t help but smell a whiff of my assistant when I try it, albeit with a load of other stuff on top.”

Nick chuckled, shaking his head. “Who knows what your pet idiot gets up to in his free time…” He paused, turning back to the matter at hand and shrugged. “So, what? Do you want me to track him down?”

“We don’t know yet,” Bogo said. “The first thing we’ll be planning is his capture, with your assistance. That could be via tracking or using you as bait. That will be decided soon.”

“The entire operation is top secret. We four are the only ones who know,” the mayor added in. “And if you co-operate, I promise that you will be rewarded.”

“What with?” Nick enquired.

“A pardon,” the mayor began, listing her points off of her fingers. “-for your crimes, your friend’s crimes, as well as, dependant on the situation, a pardon, parole option, sentence reduction or, at the very least, general population reintegration for all those who broke the severest levels of the harmony act.”

There was a beep and a buzz, Nick flinching down as he was shocked, before he stared, wide eyed, at the mayor.

“I know that your parents attempted to steal a collar keep some twenty-four years ago,” she explained calmly. “Despite there being no evidence of malice behind their actions, they were automatically sentenced to life, with no visitation or parole rights. As well as scaling back the severity of punishments for such a felony, I would intend to pardon your parents, along with several others in a similar position.”

An orange light hung over the room as Nick, looking down and a single a tear streaming from his eye, nodded. The mayor brought out a piece of paper and pushed it forwards. “There’s a large clause about you not inciting any more civil unrest or mass criminality, I thought I’d put that in for insurance, though it doesn’t stop you from campaigning. You could run for mayor as far as this is concerned. Sign on the dotted line.”

Pulling it over, Nick scanned through the document before picking up his pen, writing his signature at the bottom as fast as he could.

“No smart comments, fox?” Bogo said out loud, both Swinton and Judy nodding as he said it.

He looked up and shook his head, silent, before turning back down and staring at the agreement.

“Nick,” Judy began, “I understand that you may feel differently about this, given our history, but I’m looking forwards to working with you. And I will remember to give this wolf an extra dose of police brutality if I capture him.”

“Leave some for me, Hopps,” Bogo said, as the three mammals stood up.

Nick looked up at them as they took the document, the pill bottle in his sleeve clipping the table as he handed it over. He paused, and looked up at them. “Does the warden know?”

“We intend to inform him,” the mayor replied. “Why do you ask?”

“Just, you may want to talk to him for a while. I have a hunch that something might come up.”

They looked at him curiously, but left anyway. Leaving the room, Ramched and Caprey returned.

They hadn’t heard what had happened inside, but they wanted to know.

Nick’s route back to his cell block was long and slow and painful. Ribbing, stomping, verbal abuse, he put up with it until his escort gave up at getting information out of him. He was thrown into his cellblock, and made his way back to Damien. It was free time now, and a few preds mingled in the room, preparing a game of hearts.

Wordlessly, Nick slipped in, and several rounds passed by until there was a knock at the door. Turning around, they watched as Madge, a rhino guard escorting her, walked in. “Damien, I heard that your cough was worse today, is that true?”

“Yes nursey, got some blood coming up.”

She nodded, and turned to Nick. “What about you?”

Nick smiled, and gave her a wink. “I may have to hand these back.” He threw the bottle of pills at her, and she caught it deftly before leaving. “You know what you said about getting the timings a bit mixed up?” he said, looking at Damien.

“What about it?” he replied.

Nick shrugged. “You could say that about what’s going to happen next. However, I think you guys will see it as a nice gift. An early kitmass present, if you will?”

“What’s this about?” another predator asked, looking over.

“Oh,” Nick replied. “You’ll see. You’ll see.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: For some readers, there may well be a 'moment' in this fic that elicits a certain reaction toward it and me. An author's notes at the end will talk about this.

**Chapter 22**

.

Knocking on the warden's door, Caprey paused as it seemed oddly quiet. His final pound ringing out, he waited awkwardly, turning to look at Ramched, who stood next to him. "Know what the w _aaaa_ 'rden wants us fer?" he asked.

The sheep shrugged, just as the sound of the koala in question rang out. "Come in you two."

They opened the door and stepped in, noticing that they weren't alone. The warden was there, naturally, but so were several other guards, the nurse, and two police officers. A bunny and a buffalo.

"Anything the matter, Nigel?" Caprey enquired.

"That's warden or sir," he said, a hint of anger in his voice. The two ungulates paused, but stepped forwards anyway. They settled in silently and the koala carried on. "I was talking with these police officers here about some important business when Madge arrived. She had something to show me."

The honey badger nodded, a venomous smirk on her face. "It had become clear to me that one of our prisoners, one Nicholas Wilde, was suffering serious abuse by you two for his political opinions."

The two pulled back, Caprey coughing and spluttering. "That's a lieeeee…!" he called out, the last word pulled out into a full-on bleat. "I… I… I would never do tha'."

"Me neither," Ramched said, pointing at himself and shaking his head. "We are both representatives of the law, and would never abuse a prisoner."

The warden's eyes narrowed, before he looked over at Madge again. "As I was saying," she continued, "he states that you deliberately placed him with a prisoner who'd previously, and continued, to abuse him. You hid this from both the warden and I, even going so far as to hide evidence that would prove the danger of that setup. You threatened me when I tried to tell the warden. When he was preparing to meet with Wilde and find out the truth, you sent a mob of prisoners to kill him. Thankfully, and somewhat ironically, they were stopped by the very same rhino you set him up with to make Wilde's life hell. Even after this, you planned to carry on with your abuse, hoping to make his life miserable before killing him. You were vile, threatening, dangerous and a thousand times more worthy of the title savage than he ever was."

The goat and sheep looked at her perplexed, before looking back at the warden, the former speaking up. "W _aaa_ 'rden! You cannot believe ther lies yer hearin'? I've worked well fer years, an' dutifully too. She's lying… I don't know why." His tone hardened, as he stared into Madge's eyes. "I guess her loyalties aren't with us. It's with him."

"Indeed," Ramched said, his tone also hardening. "Caprey has said that, many times recently, this doctor has taken it upon herself to push dangerous slander onto my colleague. Especially around this Wilde prisoner. His life has been affected, with no evidence, and I can only guess it's because she is in league with this Wilde fellow and has some ulterior motive. Her loyalty isn't with us, it's with the other predators, who are currently making a mockery of the law."

The warden looked at them for a second, before shaking his head. "I thought I knew you two, you know? I thought I could trust you… You betrayed me."

"You can't believe 'er!" Caprey shouted out.

"YES I CAN AND I WILL!" the warden screamed back, silencing him. The koala, his chest rising and falling with his breath, sneered at his two guards before pulling out a small pill capsule and emptying the contents. Hundreds of white pills emptied out onto the desk top, rattling as they went. Madge stepped forwards and picked one up, throwing it into her mouth.

"Sugar and minty freshness," she noted, smiling.

The warden meanwhile pulled out a knife and began cutting the capsule in half, from top to bottom. Tearing it apart, he revealed a small box of electronics glued to the inside, a switch, microphone and mini-USB port included. "Madge stated that, in order to prove this abuse, she procured this item here," he said, both ungulates gulping. "Wilde had them and brought them to an interview he had with these fellows over here, and on the way he turned it on."

"W _aaa_ 'rden," Caprey began. "I have no idea, I…"

"I've heard it all," the koala interrupted, "and so have those two. I also understand that this has gone on a long time. A very long time in the case of you, Caprey."

The goat was silent, his eyes wide like a deer caught in headlights.

"Nothing to say, have you?" the warden cursed. "All these years… ALL THESE YEARS YOU LIED TO MY FACE! WHY!? WHY!?"

"It's a set-up, tha's what," he said, turning to look at Madge angrily. "She faked it!"

There was a cough, as one of the other guards, a pig, stepped forwards. "Being under your command, you always took over certain prisoners from my duties, such as Wilde during parts of intake. You dressed it up nicely, being a favour… But you seemed to enjoy doing rough things to predators. And you seemed very slow in reacting to the attempt on his life. You also had me get Lenora away from him just before…"

"Tha's… That's just hearsay," Caprey began. "I didn't do…"

"Cut it Caprey," a tired looking moose interrupted. "I know that every month or so you enjoy beating a pred up. You hid it well, and always told us that there wasn't enough evidence to point to you, so we shouldn't try… Well, you know what, I'm taking a stand here."

"You said that I might not get a favourable report and my bonus if I 'over focussed on a few accidents'," an equally tired beaver added, making quote marks with his fingers as he did so. "I didn't think too much into it as I was new to the job, it seemed a little thing at the time and I needed that cash given my recent audit, the taxman taking all my dough… But you know what? The more I asked, the more little accidents and odd incidents you seemed to have had over the years. It may have taken you throwing out all stealth and secrecy to abuse that Wild Times fox to make me realise… but the more I think back the worse it gets!"

"When I confronted you about this, remember that?" a tan llama said, his arms crossing. "When I said that you made Carl look nice, you ordered me to know my place and hope I didn't get any disciplinary flags that would lose me my job. That and you had plenty of other friends to vouch for you and get us fired if we tried. You said that there was nothing to gain from speaking out, and to just leave you be. 'It's only one every few months' you said. Pay it no mind, else we'd get dealt with…"

"Which you will be, each to their own crimes of silence," the warden noted, looking angrily at them before turning back to the other guards. "As will every guard in this place, if they were in with it. As will I, if the powers that be see fit. Most importantly though, as will you. So, what exactly do you have to say for yourself. Why did you do this!?"

"These are lies!" Caprey shouted "They…"

He was cut off as a hoof grabbed his shoulder. There was a creak as Ramched shifted forwards in his chair, his hooves tightening into fists. "Because you are a species traitor."

"A what?" the warden asked, confused. Caprey meanwhile looked on with alarm.

"A species traitor!" the sheep yelled, standing up and pointing at Madge. "And a pred sympathiser too! Someone who doesn't treat them like the cockroaches they live off! Someone who doesn't treat the filth we lock up like they deserve! If I had my way, every god damn chomper, in here or not, would be getting a bullet in the brain! It's what they deserve!"

"No, it's almost what you deserve," the warden growled. "You turned this place of redemption into a hell on earth."

"That's what it's supposed to be!" the sheep yelled back. "A place to punish the chompers for their sins. But you're too weak for that, aren't you? You're a traitor. A sympathiser. Someone just as tainted as the dregs we deal with. You spent however little time in a juvie when you were little, so you decided to worm your way into the system to let everyone off lightly! You're even sneakier that that stinking pelt who you've been letting loose to tear apart our city from his own cell."

The koala looked on, shocked. "Juvie? What on earth…"

"Don't treat me like that you crap eater," Ramched interrupted. "All those damn welcome to hell speeches, instead telling the scum of the earth that you were once one of them."

Gulping, the warden spoke back, his voice suddenly nervous. "I said that I'd seen what happened when people were given absolute power over their captives. I said that I'd experienced it. But I have never broken a law in my life, nor, for that matter, experienced the insolence that I'm facing now. You have no right to speak to me."

"Oh, then," Ramched replied. "Where did you experience this evil then? Or are you just a liar. A fraud. A…"

The sheep trailed off as Nigel Erius, a look of pure rage and grief a hatred on his face, sharply unbuttoned his sleeve and began to pull it back. Cloth retracted, going over grey fur, which then turned black.

A single straight line, narrow and burnt in, covered up slightly but still there, plain to see.

A number, a one.

Then a four.

Then a seven, burnt in like the others.

There was a gasp from Judy as she saw it, her mind flicking back to the lessons in school. Lessons about events that seemed to exist so far in the past, yet there she stood with a survivor.

The sound of a collar going orange rung out from Madge as a fourth was revealed. She gulped and turned away, feeling herself being drawn to the picture with the water tower by a grim sense of worry. Her mind flickered back to a map of the great outback provinces, and the west coast in particular. She'd known he'd come from there, she knew that he'd had a close escape. She didn't realise that he hadn't escaped soon enough. Closing her eyes and biting her lip, she opened them again and gazed upon the picture of the striped bunny that lay on his desk, and the sketch of the female fox too, for some unknown reason that she couldn't figure out.

Even Bogo looked on in shock as the sixth number made itself known. He remembered the stories his father had given him, about how he'd fought for mammal kind against the reptile invaders in the outback war. That and the horrors done to those civilians in the occupied western regions.

"I was four when the reptiles invaded western outback," the warden said sharply. "We didn't get out in time, until a rescue mission, by both pred and prey mind you, three years later. I… I still remember the way we were beaten, or shot at. The hunger. The pain. We were too small to be useful in the mines of Wallabyoon, thank god. But my teen years were spent going to the funerals of my friend's parents who had been. That and hearing them croak their last breath as the mesothelioma got them. And seeing that, I swore to myself that no-one, however evil, not even you, should suffer that fate. That's why I entered this line of work. That's why I became a warden, and now I've learnt that, thanks to you, I failed."

"Warden," Chief Bogo said, "want me to help you with anything?"

The small mammal looked up at him, and nodded. "Soon enough, we'll have a conviction ready for these two, I'm sure. But we'll need time to check things over. Though I think we have enough evidence to get them in while we prepare the charges. You can take them straight to your station."

He turned to face the two, watching as Bogo pulled a pair of cuffs straight off of Ramched's utility belt and used them on him. The sheep fought and groaned as it was done, the buffalo holding him tightening his grip until he gave up. Beside him, terrified, stood Caprey, who the warden turned to face. "You may have been quiet then, but I hate you far more. You deceived me for years. Lied to me for years. Undermined me for years. That's why, when your put in with those who've suffered your abuse, you'll get to tell them that you were hauled off by a bunny. Sounds good?"

Shaking slightly, the goat stood up. "No I didn't," he said, before bolting to the exit.

"Oh no you don't!" Judy yelled, racing after him, only to slam against the door as it was closed.

"Leave it Hopps, help me with this one," Bogo ordered.

"But sir…"

"He's not going anywhere," the warden said. "I'll make an announcement. This is a prison after all. The idea of it is that you're not supposed to get out unless someone wants you to get out."

.

.

.

Caprey didn't get out. An hour later, the call came in that he'd handed himself over. Judy and Bogo left, to send him out in a waiting cruiser. Ramched was already gone, and the other guard's temporary departure was watched by the warden from his office.

He sighed, turning to face Madge, who was standing by him, two cups of coffee in hand.

"I'm sorry that this had to happen," she said, placing down his cup and reaching down to place a paw on the older mammal's shoulder. He shifted a bit in his seat, looking away.

"How long…"

"How long what? How long they've been like this? How long I've known about it. How long…"

"That one," he interrupted. "How long have you known this but not told me."

The honey badger sighed. "My third day here Caprey came up to me, forced me into a cupboard and… -and he gave me the general view. He made it clear where he thought I should be and… Well, I'm afraid that after that I was doing damage mitigation rather than prevention."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I had no proof," she sighed, "and I did try. I tried to push and put my word in but, knowing that he could get mad and do stuff to me, I never did anything overt. I was scared, sir. Scared that I might slip out of your ear, like I almost did over Wilde, and then he'd make good of his promises."

"So, you just let others suffer?" he asked, his voice a hollow whisper but accusing none the less.

"It was flashes here and there, and I felt that at least I could fix what he broke and much more. I… I…" she trailed off before turning around, paws on hips, and staring accusingly at the warden. "What was I supposed to do? Maybe if I'd risked it all we could have stopped it, but what if it went wrong and nothing changed, bar there being no-one to pick up the pieces? And don't you say that you would have trusted me then, because we both know that you didn't believe Caprey could be so abusive. You wouldn't have believed me over him without proof, would you? And it was only with Nicholas that he had someone who he could pour all his hate into. Before, he never got invested in hurting one particular prisoner. If I'd have started pushing, he'd give it a break and change to someone else… Most likely me for a bit…"

There was a soft shrug from the smaller mammal, before he replied. "I guess so... Sorry about that."

"Apology accepted," Madge replied, nodding.

There was a soft chuckle, and the small marsupial turned around. "From now on, how about we trust each other. Sound good?"

"It sounds very good," she replied, before pausing. "And I'll make a confession here. I gave Nick Wilde his first set of books and paper, though not necessarily for letter writing." She let out a little chuckle, before continuing. "I thought he'd use it for scribbles and such, just to help keep a fragment of his mind intact. Directing a revolution wasn't what I had in mind."

The Warden smiled, and nodded. "Good intentions. Unusual results…"

"Quite."

"Though I don't know why you'd ever see the need to keep that bit a secret," he mused, as Madge took a sip from her drink.

"I didn't know how you'd react, and I felt the risk was too high," she explained, before taking a few gulps of her hot drink.

"She of little faith," the warden commented, taking a sip of his own hot drink. "I harbour no ill will towards predators, given that I owe my life to one," he noted, turning down to glance a sketch on his desk. "That fox shouldn't be here in my opinion. As for me getting mad with you… I mean, over a pad of paper of all things. Really? I mean over your sister I can understand."

There was a loud cough, Madge spitting out a spray of hot coffee from her mouth and even flinching from a light shock as she turned, eyes wide as dinnerplates, to face the laughing koala.

"You knew! How long? How… wha…."

"Calm down dear," he soothed. "I checked your employee records and your Furbook page when I first heard the news that a one 'Honey Badger' had been arrested. Just some professional curiosity. And I didn't bring it up with those above as I thought Mr Wilde would have wanted a friend."

"You… you…. You put me through a lot of stress, you know that?" she stuttered, lost for words, "Worrying that Caprey would find out, bring it to you, and then…"

"Sorry then," the warden replied, looking away and scratching behind his ear. "I thought it wasn't bothering you. Could we consider ourselves even?"

Madge relaxed a bit, before nodding. "Even."

"Good," the warden announced. "Also, your parents have a strange sense of humour, naming her Honey."

"If you think they're strange, wait until you meet her."

"I'd rather not," he noted, sighing, his voice becoming sad and disappointed. "Now, I've just learnt that I was a failure in my life's aims…"

"I wouldn't say…" the honey badger began, before being cut off by a raised palm.

The warden looked up at her, a blank expression on his face. "I have two options. Trust you and myself and carry on to fix this. Or accept that I've failed and do the 'right' thing and hand in my resignation… What would you advise?"

Madge thought a bit before replying. "I say stay on for a bit. I can help you pull out the weeds and pick someone willing to carry on your legacy. You can leave here knowing that it all wasn't in vain."

He blinked a few times, before smiling. "Thank you," he said. "I'm afraid I was hoping for something like that."

Madge opened her mouth to speak, only to be cut off by a sharp knock on the door. They both turned and watched as chief Bogo and Judy came back in.

"Is it done?" he asked.

"It's done," Bogo replied.

"What did he say?"

Judy stepped forwards. "He said he didn't do it, and it was a setup, all the way through."

"Sticking by the same strategy right until the end," the warden noted. "Also, I've decided to stay on here a bit longer to repair the damage they've done, and to make sure that one of their cronies doesn't end up running this place after me. Now, where were we before this."

"Discussing the use of Wilde on field operations," the chief recollected.

"Ah yes, shall we call him up," he said, as he booted up his computer. He paused, looking up to Madge and nodding. "You can leave now, though I'll catch up when we have the time."

She nodded and left, passing by Bogo and Judy as she went. The water buffalo paused, looking at where she'd been for a second, before looking down at his lapine colleague. "Hopps, is it me or does she look familiar?"

"Rings a bell," Judy noted as a smile flickered over the warden's face. "-but maybe I'm just someone who can't tell honey badger faces apart."

There was a soft tutting sound from the warden, as he carried on parsing through his folders. He paused, however, and did a double take. "Hang on… What's this here?"

"What's what?" Judy asked.

"I was checking Wilde's schedule, and I've found something of interest to discuss when he arrives."

.

.

.

Nick arrived five minutes later, led in by a pig guard. He sauntered in, despite being chained up, and sat himself down on the chair.

"In case you didn't get the memo, those two guards are currently on their way to a ZPD holding cell," the warden noted, Nick nodding his head as the news broke.

"Glad to hear," he said, smiling. His fuzzy worm of a tail wagged behind him, briefly catching his eye, and he turned to face the chief. "You know… Ramched has a lot of wool. There could be all sorts in there, and I'm pretty sure a very close shave would be needed, 'just to be safe'. You prey like that phrase, don't…"

"We don't do favours," Bogo interrupted, Nick shrinking a bit at the chiefs imposing presence. He raised a finger but was immediately shot down. "We won't be removing their horns, either."

"Right," Nick said, nodding. "So… I'm going out on field operations. Is that the plan? Or are you going to tie me to a chair that's beneath a big crate, held open by a stick with a rope tied around it, and Carrots here will be waiting in a bush on the other end?"

The chief furrowed his brown in annoyance, his teeth grinding together as he did so. "Don't give me such excellent ideas, Fox."

"It's Nick."

"I. Don't. Care."

"In any case," the warden butted in, "there's something I'd want to talk about beforehand. You didn't happen to sign up to one of our chain gangs, did you not?"

Nick turned to face him and blinked a few times, processing the question before shaking his head. "No. Why would you ask?"

"Because on my screen, it says you booked up for one."

"I don't know why," he replied. "The thought never crossed my mind."

"When was it booked?" Judy asked.

"Doesn't say," the warden noted.

"Because I bet it was booked in the last hour. While Caprey was still 'free'." She looked up at the chief, her nose twitching slightly, before turning to face the warden again.

"I guess. But why?"

"I think I might know," Nick said, all eyes turning to him. "Before I got the recorder, on my way back from the medical wing, he said that someone in city hall had called and wanted to finish me. The goat said he'd keep the option open or something."

The chief frowned. "And while he was loose, Caprey took up the offer and set you up. Out in the open, a gunshot could end you instantly." He turned to face the warden. "Cancel it."

"No…" Nick interrupted, biting his lower lip as he thought.

"Nick…" Judy said nervously. "You did hear the words 'gunshot'."

"And you heard what I said about being used as bait," he replied, his eyes narrowing. "I'm pretty sure that someone in city hall would be high up this operation. Trace it back to him, and it could be a good lead. Got any better ones?"

"No," Judy admitted. "But you'd be putting yourself in too much danger. You'd…"

"Ah-ah-ah," Nick interrupted, a smirk on his face. "I have a cunning plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .
> 
> AN:
> 
> I'm putting an Authors notes here as I feel that this is the weakest part of the story. The whole part with the warden being this world's version of a Holocaust survivor was an idea I had, based off of a bit of worldbuilding in my fic 'Coming to Reward them.' If you read that first, then this (likely helped if you were picking up the foreshadowing I dropped here and there, plus things like the mention during one of Nick and Madge's discussions (the one about how the others were safe in the reptile embassy)) shouldn't be too out of the blue. Or it might be, I'm not sure.
> 
> I'm even less sure about how well it comes together if you have only read Zootopia: The Original Plot. Feedback would be appreciated, both on whether the reveal seemed too left field and what you thought about the general idea. Overall, it may be something that sounded good in theory but not in practice. Your comments though are how I find out and learn.
> 
> As I've said before, I do have a prequel idea set in that far back time period, which would focus on a different bunny/fox duo (one of whom appeared both in 'The original plot' and this fic.) That is still a bit far off though.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The penultimate chapter, excluding an epilogue.
> 
> I was unable to post on the regular day, (and unable to post the embers of the past chapters on its day too).
> 
> However, as both chapters are heavy on the feels, I though it would be nice to post them together on my birthday. 
> 
> Which is today!
> 
> Enjoy (or not...)

.

**Chapter 23**

_Dear fellow Predators._

_._

_It's Nick here._

_._

_I have good news, and what may be bad news too._

_._

_The good news is that I think we've won. Sort of. The chief of police came in and said that the mayor wanted me to help negotiate the deal for collar free zones. On the condition that I help calm you lot down, they'll begin work by building a fence around Happytown. We'll be able to go in there, restore all the old homes, and get our emotions back._

_Hurray! Victory!_

_Then again, though, there is the bad news._

_It turns out that, in a few days' time, I'll be put to work on a chain gang. Not my kind of thing really…_

_Unless we're building underground theme parks or selling pawpsicles. Though I'm not hopeful._

_The thing is, though, that I most certainly did not sign up for this. I didn't write my name in the little book that's available for anyone who wants to volunteer for this kind of thing. Nor would I want to. Nor do the guards believe that I didn't do this. They're insisting that I go out there, work, and not waste their time._

_As you may have heard earlier, a few guards got arrested a while back for beating and attacking inmates._

_Mainly me._

_Now I think that those guys had some friends, and those friends signed me up for this. Why? I'm hoping they just thought I wouldn't like it._

_The alternative is that they're in on this conspiracy. I mean someone in the army has to be, how else would those shooters get that hardware? So, a prison guard, or someone who knows a prison guard, isn't too farfetched._

_In case something happens to me, I hope you all carry on fighting as if it hadn't. Remember that, if you choose to act together, you can beat them. But if you do the wrong thing and prove them right, you defeat yourself. Make sure you hold the powers at be to our deal too. If they don't deliver, the collars are coming off._

_As for me? If I go down, I hope to take down that piece of filth wolf with me._

_Keep it classy preds._

_Nick P. Wilde._

_._

_._

* * *

_._

.

TO: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

FROM: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

.

Dear Mel.

.

I understand what you felt after the shooting. You talked to me about it all that night. And you know how worried I was, so there's no need to dwell on that.

I've been finishing the compiling of my notes over the last few days, and it's almost done.

Out of curiosity, what are your thoughts of his last letter?

.

.

* * *

.

.

The announcement came cracking over the general intercom. A call from an anonymous guard, calling for all those signed up to the chain gangs to line up in the centre of the wing, ready to be led out. Leaving his cell, the red fox breathed in and breathed out. He had a job to do. A risk to take. A villain he might take down and a freedom he might win...

Today he was Nick Wilde, the hero of the predators, and he was going to do this.

The mammals began gathering into the line, and he joined them as it formed, standing silently as a set of guards came along with cuffs. Hands instinctively out in front of him, he watched, ears flicking, as they were cuffed.

More standing still, watched on all sides by mammals who chose to stay inside these walls.

His eyes met those of another red fox, arm going up into a quick salute, and he nodded back, wishing him well.

It seemed like both an age and a moment, but they were off. Guards monitoring them on either side, they wandered through new sets of corridors, down new stairs, before entering a large set of holding cells.

He stood still as the rest of the line finished entering, before they were locked in.

"Alright maggots," a new guard shouted out, walking forwards and poking one of the prisoners with his truncheon. "We are going to uncuff you. You are going to put on your work clothes. Those of you with horns are going to stand while we fix gore preventers onto your tips. Those of you who are preds are going to stand while we lock a muzzle onto you. We don't want any law-abiding citizen being scared, worried they'll be at the receiving end of a bull's horns or a tiger's teeth. Do you understand!?"

"Yes, Sir!" the assembled prisoners replied.

"Good to hear," the guard replied. "You will then be chained up and shackled into groups of four and put on the bus. We will then drive you out to a beach which is going to be full of rubbish. It's going to be even more full of rubbish when you arrive, don't you agree?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"You will then clean up the beach, helping to pay back society for your crimes. Until the bus gets going, you will be silent. After the bus gets going, you will be silent. If you want to talk, you can whisper a bit at the beach. I'm guessing it's the closest you'll all get to a holiday. Do you all understand me?"

"Yes, Sir!"

"Good. Let's get this going then."

He complied as he went through the motions. Cuffs off. Uniform off. A tough black and white striped boiler suit went on, 'Zootopia Department of Corrections' stencilled in big orange letters on the front and back. He stood still as a steel muzzle went over his face, the straps being brought behind his head and tightened. Blinking a bit, shuffling at the weight of the guard on his face, he felt as a pair of straps were locked beneath his chin, locking it on. Then came the chains. Around his legs and arms, connecting to a wolverine on his left and a groundhog on his right, and via an extra chain connecting to a loop on the underside of his muzzle. His head tilted down from the weight, and the motion stirred something inside him. He wheezed a bit, before a set of loud coughs rang out from him.

Must have been the dust.

The mammals nearby moved away from him a bit, though not even to the length of their chains, but apart from that no one seemed to mind.

There was a sharp whistle, the sound of a door opening to the outside, and they marched forwards towards the waiting bus.

.

It seemed so long ago for him, seeing the grasses, flowers, trees and bushes that lay outside the prison complex. Peaking back out of the window, he watched as the looming shapes of the buildings receded off into the distance. A window in the bus was open and a thrumming stream of fresh air wafted in. Despite the heavy restraints pulling it down, his head lifted up to meet it, and he smiled as he did so. His collar going up to orange went unheard by the guards in front, so instead he just savoured it.

Behind the bus, a silver car followed. Its tinted windows hid its occupants from view. However, even if a passing mammal was able to look in, he wouldn't see anything out of the ordinary. Just a bunny, out for a drive.

Little did they know that another mammal was out there, one who had his sights set on Nick, and planned to end this farce once and for all.

.

It was an hour before they arrived.

A bleak car park on a bleak, scruffy cliff.

The entire bus disembarked, and mammals were slowly filtered towards a small toilet block. A red fox joined the queue, not needing the toilet himself but instead tagging along with the fellow mammals in his set of four. A sea breeze was coming in, the air unusually fresh. Feeling a cough coming on, he was able to keep it down for a bit, despite the tingling in his chest.

The sun was warm on his fur.

He remembered that he'd never been to a beach before. Never even thought of it.

Looking over, he noticed a shuttered ice-cream store.

He shrugged.

Another thing he'd missed out on.

Maybe, after this, he could try to catch up on everything.

His ears rose as the sound of a car driving along the gravel road came across. Several of the guards, hearing it too, looked at each other and frowned. They turned and made their way off to the vehicle, a silver car, pausing as the window was brought down.

They talked a bit, then left, carrying some bags.

The car parked in a far corner of the parking lot and a small grey figure walked out.

She gave a short thumbs-up.

Despite the odd looks, he bobbed up and down three times on his knees. It was all good.

She walked off, dressed like a rambler, and made her way into a thick bush of grass, vanishing from view. One of the guards walked over, passing close by the fox and putting a hoof on his shoulder. He flinched back, before picking up the burr shaped object that had been put on him and placing it somewhere safer.

Compared to this item, the listening device that had caught Ramched and Caprey was like a hot air balloon compared to a jet fighter. It also had a tracking device in, just in case he was to be kidnapped from this place.

.

Far away, Judy found a small secluded area high up on the hill. A pair of binoculars on her, she looked down at the line of prisoners making their way into the toilets. She just glimpsed a red fox entering, before she had to tone down the volume of her earpiece.

Soon enough though he was out, back in his group, and issued with bags and litter pickers. She looked on and hoped that everything they set up was ready and would work. She checked through her binoculars, studying for a reasonable while, before pulling them down and telling herself it again.

It was a short flight of stairs down to the beach, and the crews quickly descended it, quickly getting to work. She noticed that he got a huge number of strange looks coming his way, but the guards ordered those who took it further to stay quiet and keep their heads down.

.

Standing in a line that stretched from the water's edge to the cliff face, the prisoners slowly made their way along the beach. "Here I am, Nick Wilde, litter picker," he commented, as he did his work. His eyes looking out in front of him, he picked out the odd piece of plastic that had been washed up. Old bags. Toys. Fishing line. He smiled slightly, thankful that there were no needles or anything present.

He guessed that, had there been, they'd of all been issued with footwear.

He was glad they hadn't though.

While it wasn't as comfy as a sand beach, he enjoyed the feel of the warm shingle beneath his pads. With each step, they massaged the worn things, so used to dull flat concrete.

The wind was brisk, kicking up salt spray, and he wished he could hold out his tongue a few times to catch it. It was locked in thanks to some cold and heavy steel though, so sadly that opportunity wouldn't be. Instead he rolled his sleeves up to his shoulders, and enjoyed the wind going through there.

The smell of the sea was still a welcome change regardless, so natural when compared with the mix of artificial cleanness and raw animal scent that had filled the zoo. It soothed his nostrils, tickling down them, only to send him coughing badly when they irritated too far.

He grunted, noticing that he was falling behind the others, and quickly made up time. He walked briskly on, the tatty fur on his tail limply dragging along the ground behind him. The walk was starting to tire him though, the weight on his feet making them start to ache. He settled in a safe place behind a large moose prisoner and got back to work.

It was then that he felt a sharp sting to his exposed arm.

.

Listening in, Judy flinched as she heard him whimper. Standing upright, her binoculars to her eyes, she looked down at the commotion. He lay there, on his back, paw to his arm as a set of guards raced towards him.

Her ears scanned around, having not heard a shot. As his voice came in from one ear, her other scanned around to see if it was to still emerge.

_"Ahhh… Ehhh. Hit my arm, but I don't think I'm going savage. Forwards, above to right, came from the cliff…"_

Swivelling around, Judy looked on. She'd picked a high point along the coast, and scanned for any movement.

A set of grasses rustling.

She looked closer.

Carrying on, racing away.

She charged forwards, whistling through the undergrowth, stems and branches whipping by her as she went. Parting the grass like the red sea, her blood pulsed as she tracked down the source of movement.

A sudden hop, and she emerged from cover long enough to see the movement changing course slightly, a spec of white at its centre. She picked up a radio and called into it. "Hopps, over. We have a suspect who tried to snipe our fox, currently heading away from the coast. Presumed to be a sheep. Do you copy?"

"Affirmative," came a reply down the line. Bogo. "Do we have casualties?"

"Negative," Judy called out, leaping up again and getting another view of the target. She changed her course again, following him as he made his way into a small birch forest. "I'm guessing the bullet only grazed over."

"Hopps, we're mobilizing units, including a helicopter with a thermal camera. Do not engage, over. It's too risky."

"Ten-four," she called back, before pausing as she thought. "I didn't hear a shot, sir."

"It might be silenced. From a long distance, the sea could have covered the noise."

"Makes sense," she noted, jumping up again. A distinct white figure vanished into the forest, and despite wanting to follow, Judy stayed at the edge.

Panting.

Breathing.

Her legs ached from the chase, but it was over for him.

She could hear the distant sound of a police helicopter, rapidly approaching.

He was finished.

.

.

Back on the beach, two guards quickly unshackled the wounded fox from his crew and escorted him away.

They turned to him, and his face, and pulled it off.

There was a clatter as the fake head, which he'd put on in the toilet, came off. It was built like a helmet, steel in the rough shape of a fox's head and with replica fur on top. It was fairly easy to see that it was fake from up close, but the assumption had always been that any assassination attempt would come from far away. Even if it had been spotted, it could at least direct the shot to the bullet proof vest the fox wore beneath his jumpsuit. That could stay on though, as they reached the bus by the beach, another guard racing up.

"Why would anyone attack you?" he asked, looking at the prisoner.

"Oh," he replied back. "Didn't you get the memo? I'm the sarcastic fox who opened a collar free theme park and, when framed by this guy, refused to go quiet into that good night. I've screwed up his plans big time, and it seems like he's a spiteful guy who holds a grudge. It's a good thing he missed, though."

The guard who spoke first looked on confused. He opened his mouth, only to be cut off by one of the other ones. "I don't think you're that lucky," he noted. "There's something on your arm."

"What? On the graze?"

He gulped, pausing the escort and leaning down. "There isn't a graze," he said warily, reaching forwards. There was a flinch as he felt something being pulled from his skin, his collar going orange.

He dryly noted that he didn't remember its reaction from being hit.

He then flinched down from a surprised shock as the item spoke out.

_"Hello Nicholas…"_

The words rang out, a powerful and aloof Scottish accent carried with them. The three mammals froze stiff, not even notice as an unmarked car pulled up by them, the chief of police stepping out to join them.

_"It's been a while, has it not you little monster. You may be thinking yourself lucky now. You escape your due punishment for your crimes with a joke of a sentence. You brought down my plans and my goals with damn words. You even escaped an attempt on your life…"_

.

Far away, Judy listened in, feeling sick. She'd been hearing how they'd tracked their shooter to a small shed in the woods, where he'd entered a vehicle. They had an escort ready to intercept. She thought it was over.

" _…Except, that isn't the case, is it Foxy? I'm not one to explain my plans to you, let you know how much of a genius I am. How I am not the inherent contradiction you see at first glance, with your primitive chomper brain… It took a while to decide on your fate… It had to be death, but long and painful. I wanted you to be put on the long sliding abyss, and you to be aware of that. And, in your final weeks, before your body falls apart, I'll take glee in still knowing that you'll be clueless to the truth._

_Farewell, and good riddance to you."_

_._

Judy trembled, leaning back against one of the trees and cradling her head. After relaying her the speech, the recorder device carried on whispering in her ear. An argument on the other end, Bogo ordering three mammals into a waiting cruiser, urging them to go away.

She stood up, looking inside the forest, wondering if there was any evidence that might be in there.

A scrap of wool from the elusive Bell Conagher.

She knew that he wouldn't get away. Nor would the wolf.

And then her radio crackled again, and she heard the most unexpected thing in the world.

"Guys! We've got him. And you won't believe this, but it's the assistant mayor!"

.

.

* * *

.

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung zmail. com

FROM: melonymelody bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

After the fact, I came to the conclusion that the final letter was the most truthful.

The revelation that this assistant mayor was the 'wolf's' assistant came as a true shock. But comparisons to the wool at Bell Conagher's apartment proved it.

They were the same mammal.

And then, someone made the connection.

I'm not sure who.

I'm guessing a sniffing boar wanted to see if he could trace the wolf on him, only to find that he smelt entirely of the wolf.

That was the second big shock. When they found the lab. The disguises. Even the savage wolf in the basement, a test of a long-lasting savage serum. Seeing how long he could keep it going for.

It's hard to come across of how much an idiot the assistant mayor seemed to be. The joke was that, in order to promote inclusiveness, he was put in to show that even those with learning disabilities could succeed in government. Hearing that he was a highly trained evil mastermind, hiding behind a various set of secret aliases and a public one based around being a moron…

I guess it's like bozo the clown suddenly being a genocidal tyrant.

I was happy to know that it was over. He'd been brought down.

Then the third shock came.

I'm guessing the ZPD didn't think twice about the shooters, supplied with weapons by our friend, making base in a warehouse that imported smoke detectors. Finding the remains of a few hundred, broken open, might have been different.

Particularly if you know their inner workings.

The radioactive poison held within.

Nicholas Wilde got his victory.

It's just a terrible shame that it had to be a pyrrhic one.

.

.

* * *

.

.

_One week later._

.

.

Entering the hospital corridor, Woolly the sheep was led along by a pair of guards. Hands cuffed in front of him, feet shackled, and a bright orange uniform worn over his wool, it was a far cry from his other pieces of attire.

His unruly outfitted that he donned when he masqueraded as the idiotic assistant mayor.

The sleek and perfectly engineered wolf costume, in which he'd waged his crusade against the predators of the city, disguised as one of them.

Even his casual clothes, which he donned on the few occasions that he let the layers of deceit down and could, in private, be himself.

It was the orange of prison for now and, until he managed to escape from this brief inconvenience at least, the foreseeable future.

Which still made him question why he was being led into a hospital, though he didn't voice those concerns out loud.

Looking either side of him, seeing the prey mammals that were helping to pull back their own destiny, he knew that he wouldn't lower himself to admitting his confusion to them.

Down again, and towards a pair of guards that protected a quarantine room. Looking onto their chests, the sheep noticed plastic devices pinned to their uniform. They looked like bulky badges, with two small domes on them. Spotting them, a slight sneer grew across his face, as he knew why he'd been taken out of his cell and moved over here.

"They're quite unnecessary you know," he chided, shaking his head. The guards in attendance turned to face him, ears raising where possible. His natural accent was a far more refined version of the one he'd used publicly, though the essence was still there. Still, they were not used to it and it threw them slightly.

"Trying to get us killed too? Another trick in that wool?" A guard sneered, leaning over at him.

"Certainly not. It's just that alpha particles, such as those from Animalicium-241, are blocked by skin," he politely explained back. "Mr Wilde's body in there will be doing a fine job of keeping you all safe, while being torn apart from the inside at the same time. I'm guessing he requested a private audience? Does he wish to give me a sarcastic takedown in response to his organs turning into mush? Or just ask the cliched why?"

"Go see for yourself," the guard replied, opening the door.

Stepping inside, the sheep was assaulted by the sudden heat. It was like Sahara Square in there and, turning down to face the sole hospital bed, he could see why.

The fox who had ruined everything lay there, covered in a sheet, with his bald head sticking out from the top.

"You wanted me here so you could gloat your victory?" he asked, looking down at the bedridden figure.

The fox pulled his mouth into a quivering smile and replied. "You won't believe the frickin' drugs they have me on," he said, his voice croaky and almost unrecognisable. "Whoooeeee I'm high."

"Don't worry, your death will come soon enough," Woolly explained. "Ready to say goodbye to your wretched life, Nicholas?"

He watched him breath, before weakly bringing his shoulders up into a shrug. "Kinda… For a while now, so gloating about ending my pointless, meaningless existence won't work. At least I did something worthwhile. I chose to take part in a gamble… I knew the risks, and I knew things could go wrong, but we still won… We got you, didn't we? If it went well, I could have some free time again and, even though it didn't, I feel like I'm going out in a good way..." He slowly brought a claw up and hooked it on his sheet, pulling it down to show his uncollared neck. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but it might be a bit too bare! Still feels good man. Still feels good."

The sheep stared daggers at him, his foot shuffling onto the ground. "Don't worry, I'm certain they'll have plenty of collars in hell. That's where you're going. When I said that that bear I turned was a savage, raised from hell, it wasn't just with the drugs in his system, you know? That was my greatest mistake, changing my target from you to him. After that, you wouldn't shut up or just accept your fate. And here you now are."

"And here you are too! What did you feel when you realised it had all failed, cotton bud?"

"I felt that I should have gone with plan A, and given you the Bullgarian umbrella treatment instead."

"Fat lot of help that would've done to you," the bedridden fox croaked. "As you rot in your cell, I hope you realised that you brought down all you worked for. You wished to destroy my life, but you turned Nicholas Wilde into a hero. A legend. And things will only go forwards from now on. First, we have the collar free zones, then more prey will start visiting… One of these days, hopefully when you are still alive to see it, only true monsters like you will still be wearing collars."

Woolly spat on the floor, the guards immediately reacting. They grabbed him roughly and began taking him back, all as the sheep sneered back at the fox. "No! You'll just be laying your true nature out for everyone to see! You will have died for nothing! Nothing! You should have stuck to the scamming, fox!"

The bald fox laughed, his voice croaking out as he watched his enemy being dragged away. "It's called a hustle, matey!" he yelled, his throat turning painful at the end. He saw the sheep leave and the door close, then relaxed.

He wasn't that upset about dying.

It would have been nice if the safeguards had worked, and he'd see the outside world again.

What disappointment he did have was at not being able to see some dear faces after many years apart, though he hoped he'd get that chance in the next world.

But he was proud of what he'd done, and to him that was what mattered.

He felt tired and happy, and slowly closed his eyes.

He wasn't in pain; the drugs saw to that.

He'd wake and go to sleep a few more times, enjoying the brief novelty of this state over his last few days.

Before his eyes closed one last time, and he passed from this world.


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Sometimes perfect timing randomly happens. It's 90 days since I resumed this fic, and today it ends.

**Chapter 24:**

.

TO: gregoryhuvertung@zmail. com     

FROM: melonymelody@bamboo. co. zt

.

Dear Grima.

.

If there is a god, I think he’s a tragic poet.

Why else would Nicholas Wilde die on the day that the HappyTown collar free zone first opens. I was hoping that this day would always be remembered as a happy one, but waking up this morning and hearing the news, I knew that it would be forever melancholic. I wonder he knew that this was the day? If he fell asleep for the final time the night before, hoping to see his victory but never receiving it.

From what I gather, due to security reasons, he’s to be buried in a lead lined coffin in the same nocturnal district cavern that they used to use for spent fuel rods. Boring a tunnel in, sliding him through, and concreting the gap shut.

I suppose vandals and haters can never touch him again, but I still liked the idea of giving him a memorial stone or something. I also hear that foxes traditionally cremate their dead, though I’m not sure how much he’ll mind.

His parents though are a different matter. Both his adoptive one, and his birth ones.

As part of his deal, the last two are soon to be released. A week from now or something.

The original terms of their sentence meant that Nicholas would only be able to see them again at each ones’ funeral. Now, though, it’s the other way around, or at least would be were they even given the chance.

His friends can’t see him either.

Their charges are gone, a bit too late for them to say goodbye one last time. They must be leaving the embassy soon.

It’s all very sad is it not? But I think the saddest thing is that he won’t see the thing that he didn’t expect. That we didn’t expect. The thing that changes everything.

He always talked about Zootopia, and how it was his fight for that city. But, however large and famous it may be, it’s just a tiny part of a wider world. The winds of change he sowed though are spreading everywhere, Grima. Where you live, I watched as, with many of the local officers blessing the protestors on, collar after collar was cut off and burnt. All on the day that Wilde chose. There was violence yes, as outside forces meant to prevent this tried to attack, but they’re already withdrawing, the same protests carrying on in their home towns and provinces. Canidaea is free, and there’s already reports of a great civil war starting in occupied Katavulpia. I’ve heard that the few major cities of western outback have had the same thing, and who knows how many are stripping off in the hinterlands. It’s the same absolutely everywhere. Every predator is doing it and, yes, tens of thousands might die as the more hostile states try to bring back order. But Wilde changed the whole world and created a new era. Even in my home province, I have the feeling that that little sun bear has shed his collar too. A great wall that divided mammality and seemed unbeatable has just been cast aside thanks to mammals deciding that they’ve had enough, and we were blessed enough to witness it.

I don’t know what the future holds for the world, but it feels different now. It feels hopeful. And, hopefully, some of that hope will survive and grow. In the future, everyone will know and remember Nicholas Wilde. I may not be a betting person, but if I could I’d put half my life savings on a certain name being the most popular for babies next year, and many years after. But, alas, he will never see this. He won’t learn that his new progressive Zootopia is suddenly less progressive than many other parts of the world. They’ll get there though, soon I think. But that’s for them to do at their own pace.

That’s right, my work here is done, and I plan to join you again.

Not quite yet though, there’s one last thing I want to do in Zootopia.

Something that I think is vital to do before I leave.

.

Love,

Mel.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

The steady beat of a heart monitor punctured the air, ringing out in the white, sterile room.

Laying in a bed, strapped down and with IV lines in his arms, the wolf slowly turned and fought, his eyes flickering as he came back too.

Slowly opening his eyes, adjusting to the light, he felt a sudden sense of ease as a paw was gently place on his crown before stroking backwards. Finally coming into focus, he smiled as he saw a she-wolf and a large male wolf above him.

“Mother…” he weakly said, his voice hoarse. “Father!? Where am I…”

“Hospital, dear,” she said, staying her feelings as her collar hovered in a dangerous orange. “That… That terrorist sheep who killed Gazelle kidnapped you. But you’re safe now precious. You’re safe and all is good.”

His eyes drowsily began to close as snuggled back in to his bed, still exhausted despite his rest. His body ached all over, as if he’d been running back to back marathons, and he wasn’t in the mood for talking. Still though, there was one thing that he felt needed to be commented about.

“I thought… I thought it was a wolf,” he whispered.

His mother blinked and then smiled. “A lot has changed while you’ve been gone…”

His eyes opened, and he looked between the pair. “Really!?” he gasped.

She looked over to her ex-husband in alarm and stepped away a bit. “I’m sorry,” she chuckled. “Not that. But rest now, and when you wake up I can tell you the good news.”

“Ahhhh,” he sighed, slowly drifting away as he did so.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

In a lonely cell a fox sat alone, thinking over the news he’d just been given. Though he didn’t know his new friend for long, he’d still known him. Now he was gone, and while he told himself that he’d been ready to accept this fate, he couldn’t help but feel guilty. Looking at the walls around him, an enclosing world that he’d be leaving too soon enough, he coughed slightly before lying back on his bed, alone with his thoughts.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

Fighting off the chill in the air, the fennec vixen silently walked through the morgue. Standing beside her, Dr Madge Badger led her on by one paw, before lifting her up to the top of the table as they arrived. Nodding silently to the elephant caretaker, a plastic dosimeter pinned to his chest, they watched as he lifted up the heavy coffin lid, revealing the inside. Rather than being lined with velvet or padding, it was dull metal, and resting peacefully in it was the fox, bare of fur and collar and clad in a white shawl. Madge leant forwards, helping Cherifa up and letting her peak in.

She looked down and her collar went orange as she slowly stroked the bare neck.

“Thank you,” she said quietly, before turning to leave.

They exited as they had entered, silently, letting the door to the morgue close behind them.

Cherifa looked up at Madge and smiled slightly, and Madge looked down and grinned. “He died for a good cause. He’d be happy now, I promise you. As for that other thing, I guess seeing is believing.”

The vixen’s grin widened, and she choked back a sob as she began to cry. “Oh, thank you,” she said, rushing forwards as the honey badger leant down and picked her up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!” She said it out loud more and more, tears streaming down her as she sobbed and giggled.

Her collar warmed up to orange, and Madge deftly slipped her paw beneath it, flinching slightly at the first shock. “There, there,” she said, cradling the vixen in tighter. “Be as emotional as you want, just for now, I can take it.” She smiled down, her collar going orange as the odd tear flowed from her eyes, and the two left the building together.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

In a room across town, three mammals sat up, waiting eagerly as they each received a signed letter. The sheep handing it out, flanked on his side by a looming Gila monster, was silent as the three pairs of eyes checked over it

“So, we’re free to leave?” Clawhauser asked slowly, looking up at the messenger.

He nodded, before pointing to his neck. “You’ll still want to recollar yourself. You can get it taken off again when you reach Happytown though.”

“Right,” he replied, sighing, as he looked over to three newly waiting boxes. Their old collars had been sawn off soon after they arrived, so new ones had been brought in. Finnick looked at his venomously, Clawhauser sadly, while Honey just sighed and leant forwards, ready to put it back on.

“Better get this over with, boys,” she grunted. “On the count of three… One…”

“No,” Finnick interrupted, standing up. “I say before we chain ourselves again, we raise a last toast to Nick.”

Clawhauser smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah… To Slick.”

He paused, his smile turning into a frown as he sniffed a bit, bringing a finger up to his eyes to brush away the odd tear. He looked on with Finnick at Honey, who just shrugged.

“I don’t know what difference it makes, or how much he cares up there,” she began nonchalantly, before trailing off. “But… But I miss Nick… And…. And -And if it has a chance of making him feel happy or something, then yeah. I’ll do it.” Her voice has turned into a whine, and she was crying too now, the heated stone flagstones beneath her pattering with her dripping tears.

The sheep, sensing the change in mood, turned to leave, while the reptile dignitary picked up a tray full of spirits and carried them over, pouring each of them a small drink of spirit distilled from prickly pear fruit. He placed them forwards onto the table, watching as the two men stepped forwards to pick it up. Honey meanwhile, who was crying into Clawhauser’s chest, stepped forwards to take a sniff before flinching back.

“You don’t have to have it, you can have water if you want Honey,” the cheetah reassured her.

She nodded before stepping forwards to pour a new glass, only to be distracted by another reptile, or rather two reptiles, entering. It was a double headed tortoise, and they walked forwards as fast as they could manage, the one on the left speaking out in one of their harsh native tongues to the gila monster. The large lizard hissed, barking out of few words in what they mammals could tell was a different dialect, before handing out his paw. The other tortoises head chided his twin in the first tongue, before apologising to the lizard in the second, saying some more worlds as he handed the other letter over. “From your departed friend,” the larger reptile said slowly in English, the words tainted by his hissing accent.

The three mammals looked on at it silently as Finnick took it an opened it, waving off the others. As the door shut, leaving them alone, they read through it together.

Finnick’s eyes went wide, Clawhauser’s fists went tuckering up into his chin as his tail began thrashing behind him, while Honey walked over to the three waiting glasses of potent spirit and downed them, each one after the other.

She turned back to the others, a trembling grin on her face as she threw the last glass onto the floor where it shattered, before she punched her arms up and screamed out. “HOT DAMN!”

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

A large cape buffalo stood in a peaceful garden, slowly placing a bouquet of flowers and a signed letter onto a large stone plinth. It was freshly carved and surrounded by all sorts of flowering trees and plants, but the crumbling ruins of other graves still reminded him of where this was. He looked up to see three tigers arrive, one of them barely holding himself together, and left them to place their newest decoration down. Gazelle’s final resting place was still crowded with the tributes from her fans. Bogo left though hoping that, if she were looking down upon them, she’d be happy to see how things had played out in the end.

.

.

* * *

 

.

.

A different fox in a different cell.

He sat down on the floor, his spine resting in the corner of the room, his face and eyes lifted up to the tiny opening of light that was carved into the top of his concrete room.

He stared at it.

And stared.

And stared…

An odd blink would come or go, the movement across his face like the ripple from dropping a boulder into a still lake.

He didn’t move or speak.

He just looked up at his little square.

He’d had a different square until a while ago. A television.

Was it a while ago?

He didn’t know.

He was fifty-five when they’d taken it away, and he’d lost count of the days that had gone by since. He tended to lose count of them, that’s why he liked the news. It showed him the world outside, how it grew and how things were getting better.

He’d liked to guess how his little boy was doing out there, hoping he was happy despite his collar. Happy with all these new computers and I-Paw things that he heard about.

They’d taken his special window away from him after he’d seen his son on it. After they locked him up too, for twenty years.

The news had been telling him the world his child was in was getting better. It then told him that his baby was going to prison, like him.

It told him he was a failure.

He’d failed.

He was a terrible father.

A terrible mammal.

Terrible…

.

He didn’t think this now, though. He just watched his window, not thinking as he did so.

He’d figured out how to not think when alone like this.

Sometimes he’d wonder what the point was.

He wasn’t waiting for something. Everything just felt the same sped up as it did slow down

He guessed he’d die sooner.

Or at least get his television back sooner.

.

They’d taken his television from him. To punish him.

.

A faint sting on his crossed arm, and he looked down at it. White bandages covered it from wrist to elbow, and as he held onto his arms tight he felt the sting beneath increase.

.

They’d punished him for punishing himself.

.

He needed to be punished. He’d failed his son. He was a failure. A bad mammal. A…

“YOU THERE!”

The fox jolted out of his position and, looking up at the dense steel mesh of his door, noticed a figure standing there. He didn’t know what he was doing or why he was here, only that this figure was better than him. Crawling onto all fours, he lay himself belly first on his cold floor, tilting his head up so that the guard could see his neck. “Yes sir,” he whispered back fearfully.

“Stand up, I hear you’re getting out of here.”

Blinking a few times, the fox did as was asked and flinched as the locks were undone, the door opening to expose the guard. The prisoner tilted his head as he was gestured out. No cage… Not even pawcuffs. They walked down the hallway together, the fox being led on and looking at the beauty of the concrete pillars and pipes as he did so. So many forms, and intricacies, he’d long ago forgotten about.

Out through a set of bars, and he felt a harsh beep on his neck.

His eyes blinked a few times and he flinched, halting in place. He trembled where he stood, the guard turning to look at him.

“What’s the matter, you’re getting out of here, aren’t yeh?” he asked, the fox nodding back.

“It’s my time…” he said, slowly stepping forwards, “and I’ll take my fate like a man…”

“Take your fate… take your fate… you’re being absolved of your crimes or something. Stop acting like it’s the end of the world.”

…

“Oh…” he said. He understood it now. It wasn’t his time. His time had passed without him noticing it. He was going on to the next stage, but…

A paw went around his neck, and he gulped. “Tell me sir,” the fox asked, “if I am being absolved… Did the lord make us chompers to wear collars in this life too…?”

.

The guard shook his head, leading the prisoner into a room where a tray of clothes lay. “How should I know. All I know is you’re crazy… Not as crazy as that son of yours though, though I guess he is the reason you’re getting out.”

There was a slight zip as a collar went off, and the fox looked at the guard and gulped. “My Nicky… he… -he got a pardon…”

“For all three of you, I hear,” the guard noted. “Get changed, from what I hear your other half is waiting.”

John Wilde watched as the door was closed on him, his collar glowing orange throughout, before he turned down and rapidly tore off his uniform.

It wasn’t heaven or hell, and he wasn’t sure whether there was a lord or if it was his work or not…

Ancient but familiar garments went on him, his fingers fumbling to push buttons through holes and thread a belt or tie around his waist or neck. His arms ached, and his collar was chiding him…

He knocked on the door and was led on.

Into warmer corridors, carpet now beneath his feet.

He briefly remembered how blissfully comfortable it was.

Up to an austere wooden door, a powerful scent pulling him forwards. He remembered it now… He remembered it all, despite never forgetting.

They knocked and entered.

Inside were a hippo, a cape cuffalo, a koala, a bunny, and…

_“Johnny?”_

He flinched from the shock, falling to his knees, only to feel two weak arms cradled around him. He looked up into her eyes, and she into his, before he tore his face away. “Oh god…”

“-Johnny…”

“-I’m sorry!” he yelled, flicking as another shock hit him. “I’m sorry, I… -hate me please!”

Looking on trembling, Marie-Anne Wilde stepped forwards and begin lifting her husband to his feet. “Johnny, I’d never…”

“How long did I lock you up in there,” he cursed, sobbing. “How many years did I take from you with my damn stupid dream… Thinking… -thinking I could be anything more than a damn chomper, I…”

“-Johnny please, I love you,” she sobbed, flinching as her collar began going off.

“-I’m hurting you again!” he cursed. “Go away… find someone better, find…”

“I’d only find you,” she said, lunging forwards and tightly embracing her mate. The prey mammals in the office looked on in silence as the two flickered and shook, their collars protesting at various occasions.

“Permission to…” the bunny began to say, only to be cut off by the hippo.

“Don’t you dare,” he growled, “it’s a ploy if I’ve ever seen one.”

Judy, and the koala she stood by, stared at him before looking back at the two as they settled down into orange lights. “What about Nicky…” John asked, flinching as he wife was racked by a short sharp shock.

“Don’t….” she began.

“See him…” John said solemnly, “I understand that. I took us from him… he… he has every right to hate us…”

His vixen trembled now, holding onto him tight for support. “You… You don’t know what happened on the news. You…”

She was pushed away, the fox standing in front of her looking forwards with broken eyes. “How?” was all he asked.

“That wolf…. -it turned out to be a sheep disguised but…” she stuttered, “-Nicky helped capture him Johnny. Nick saved Zootopia, and they’re letting those in Happytown not wear collars…”

“How?” he asked again.

She gulped and looked away. “The wolf… -sheep, he… he… -he poisoned Nick with a dart the day our boy found him out… He… he died a few days ago.”

.

.

.

There was a slight cough from the koala, permeating the silence of the room…

.

.

The male fox closed his eyes, his face riven with pain, and he looked down at the floor. He breathed in and out deeply, the skin around his orange collar twitching expectantly, waiting for the shock to arrive.

Judy looked up and spoke. “I think it’s time to take them to him.”

The others in attendance nodded, and she and a pair of guards led the two out. In silence, Marie holding the male fox, they exited their building, shielding their eyes from the sun as they made their way to a squad car. Judy got in the front, they in the back, and as the engine started the bunny looked back at the two, a paw outstretched. “Please use this… You’ll need it.”

The two foxes looked down at Judy’s collar key, and John’s collar went red. “No…” he whispered, flinching from a painful shock. “No… I don’t…”

Before he could react, his wife took the key and rammed it against his collar. The thing fell away to the floor and she swatted his paw as he went down to retrieve it. She undid her own and, grasping both his paws, looked deep into his eyes.

She leant forwards, embracing him tightly, as they both broke down together.

.

.

Not long after, they pulled up at a large yellow building, one of the looming cell blocks. “He’s inside,” Judy explained. She paused, one foot out of the car door before adding, “and under my orders as an officer of a law, you are going to keep those collars off for now, you understand.”

John and Marie looked at each other, before stepping out and following her. Already out, the koala from earlier walked besides them as they entered the building, before he waved them down a flight of steps and into the basement.

Past several sets of open barred doors.

Past empty guard checkpoints.

The two foxes looked at each other again, confused, before staring back at the bunny in front of them.

“Is… is the morgue down here?” Marie ask tensely, her paw moving up to her ear and rubbing the spot where her tag has used to be. Her husband still had his, they’d remove it soon enough. She wondered about her kit…

“Yeah,” John added. “Am… am I going to see my little boy again. Say sorry…”

“No and yes,” a new voice said, as a portly figure emerged from around a corner. It paused, wide eyed and orange collared, her paw going up to her mouth, which hung open in a chocked ‘O’.

The two foxes looked back, gasping. Marie spoke first. “No… M-M-Madge?”

The honey badger nodded. “I sort of made the dream,” she said, before looking over to a confused Judy, “and now the pardons are sorted and she’s free again, you don’t have to hold back. You can give me all the ‘how you’ve grown’s…’ you like.”

None of them took up the offer, the pair instead walking forwards and both sniffing and gently stroking their friends’ child, or in John’s case his goddaughter, making sure this wasn’t an illusion. Madge, holding her emotions in check, smiled back and even cracked a joke. “You know, I’m beginning to feel a little concerned now… If you’re this pawsy with me…”

Both foxes pulled back, John’s ears drooping as his posture dropped submissively. “I…” he began, before being cut off.

“No hard feelings,” Madge said, “now come on, you’ve left him waiting for long enough.”

“I… -yeah, I guess you’re right,” John muttered. “His spirit’s probably waiting by his body, tapping his foot… It’s my fault he was always alone, I…”

“He missed you so much, but he was never alone, he’ll tell you that himself,” Madge said, smiling as she noticed John and Marie’s ears perk up.

“What do you mean…” she began, only for Judy to interrupt.

“Mr and Mrs Wilde,” she began, “Your son was an amazing individual who’ll be remembered in the history books… He made me a better person too… -And if you thought that we’d put someone like him at risk to capture this terrorist…” She paused, unable to figure out how to finish the sentence, before beginning another one. “It was his plan,” she explained.

“Plan?” John asked.

Judy, reaching a solid metal door and turning around to face them, nodded and continued. “Another fox, a murderer with not much long left in his life, volunteered to take your son’s place on the chain gang… Ideally he’d survive and spend his last year or two free, but it didn’t go that way. Before you ask, he died happy, knowing he did something good with his life. When Damien Watcher died, he’d uncovered a great conspiracy and created a legend…” She sighed, looking down and shaking her head. “Given that this is the ideal chance to protect your son from future attacks, we've decided to keep his sacrifice secret. Not many will remember him, but I guess we can, together.”

Trembling, Marie looked up, her arms jumping out to hold her husband tight. “Wha… wai…. Nicky isn’t dead?”

Looking up, beginning to tremble and grin with excitement, Judy turned to the door she was by and opened it up. The hinges squealed slightly, before she called in.

“Slick, are you dead?”

“Officially, yes,” came a reply from inside. “I’d have died from boredom if you hadn’t got here now… is that what you want?”

Opening the door wider, Judy shrugged back. “And let our trick go to waste.”

Light flooded into the room, lighting up the fox within. Red fur and a cream belly, with auburn socks, ears and short, fuzzy tail tip, along with jungle green eyes and a bare neck. “Tchhhh…,” he said, “It’s called a hustle, sweethea….”

He never finished the sentence, instead rendered speechless as he saw the two foxes in front of him.

No words needed to be said.

Instead, with Judy stepping back with Madge, handing her a promptly used collar key as she did so, the three foxes came together and embraced.

Finally, together again.


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .  
> .  
>  An: Note that this was uploaded at the same time as the last chapter. IF YOUR LAST MEMORY WAS NICK'S DEATH, GO BACK ONE CHAPTER!  
> .  
> .  
> .  
> Note, I also have a new fic out called 'Different'. Feel free to check it out.  
> .  
> .

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**_\--One month later--_ **

.

Garnering a few stares from the border guards, the giant panda stepped through the gates of the Happytown collar free zone.

Where there had once been decay, there was construction work and materials strewn about, the dead district returning to life as predators flooded back to it, hoping to reclaim that which had been taken from them.

She wandered past them all, down close to the waterline.

There were more predators around here, all without collars.

She didn’t fear them or care, instead joining with them as they walked towards the looming figure of a great warehouse, where this had all started.

She, like all the others, cradled a lit candle in her paw and, sheltering it from the wind, she slowly raised it.

A sea of fireflies, flickering and living, some dying only to be relit by their brethren, filled the air.

Bar the distant sound of the city and that of the sea, there was an unearthly quiet.

.

Sniffs rang out.

.

The odd cry.

.

Looking forwards, towards a makeshift stage, she watched as a small, even for his species, fennec fox spoke into the microphone.

He talked about his friend.

About what they’d experienced together.

About how they’d rebelled together.

About how he’d be telling them to stop this mushy stuff, and to enjoy themselves at Wild Times… His Wild Times.

He told them to remember Nicholas Wilde as a friend, a fun-loving mammal, and the one they owed their hides to.

There was a brief chuckle, before the fireworks began. Behind them, the park opened, and despite its creator being dead, his dream lived on.

.

She waited a few hours to get in and didn’t go on any of the rides when she did. She appreciated the place, and its creator, before leaving. It was as she did so, though, that she heard an oddly familiar voice. “Leaving so early? What’s the matter panda?”

She turned, a flash of recognition in her ears, before pausing as she looked at a familiar figure. Her eyes widened as she saw the fox, before she spotted his white ear and white tipped tail.

He blinked, before shrugging. “Ah, don’t worry,” he shrugged. “I get that a lot. I’m a second or third cousin from his mother’s side apparently…”

Blinking a bit, Melony shook her head and bowed her head. “I’m very sorry. As for me, I just thought I’d appreciate the place… I’ve been promoting pred rights for a long time, and I thought I’d visit this place before I left Zootopia.”

The fox nodded. “If it made you happy, I can’t ask for much more…” He trailed off, his head then tilting to the side. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but were you with Gazelle on her last night?”

The panda pulled back with confusion. “How did you…”

She trailed off as her raised his paw, before giving her a wink. “I just know. I also know how important a good story is.”

“I…” she began, before being cut off by the fox as he walked away.

“Little tip,” he said, opening a staff only door and beginning to walk through, holding his white ear as he did so. “Freeze tattoos are good for that second bit. Keep it quiet, you understand?”

He closed the door behind him, leaving the panda alone, speechless with her finger out.

She blinked and walked away.

Out of the speedycare…

Down the road.

She was halfway to the exit from the district when she paused, beginning to chuckle. Then to laugh. Then to cry and pump her hands up and down. Falling onto her knees on the floor, she raised her arms to the sky and laughed out in joy.

He’d hustled them all.


End file.
